Milestones of Rebellion
by Yaji's Girl
Summary: Find out more about Bardock and how his life unwinds, betraying those he loves and mending old bonds.
1. Repayment

**I haven't read any really good Bardock stories, so I decided that I would try something with him. This should be five parts, each being two years apart from one another. In this one, Bardock is sixteen years old. And this is rated T for gore, violence, and some adult themes later on. Enjoy!**

A young Saiyan stood, his lean back pressed against a large stone wall that ran the length of the capital of Vegeta. He snorted, watching the higher-class Saiyans his age attempt to fight. It was pathetic, really, and Bardock wanted to turn away from the battle, if it could be called as much. They ignored the defensive aspect of the battle, dropping their arms and allowing their opponent a well-aimed kick to the chest when tired. Even the offense was sloppy, with energy blasts so pitiful used that even a third-class Saiyan like himself could block them with ease. But that was the catch: he was just a third-class Saiyan.

He growled as an elderly superior barked in his direction, "Boy! Fetch these two water!" He dropped his arms to his side and bit his bottom lip with frustration, tearing at it with his jagged teeth. He hated having to be the errand boy for others who received the privilege of training, of going on missions, but that was all a part of the package. Low-class warriors were servants before fighters, or at least until they reached adulthood. Then, as soon as they became of age, they were legal to do as they please, within a certain set of boundaries. But he was only sixteen. It would be another two, good years before he could quit this apprenticeship and pursue other opportunities, able to finally go beyond what anybody expected of him.

But as of now, he was simply a boy. He was stuck serving underneath these first-classers, struggling at watching them struggle. He wanted to be able to show them all that he could do what they could and more, and that his class would not be what determined him. He was determined to change all of this by the time he was an adult. He would overthrow this unfair hierarchy, all determined by birth, and allow talent to be what ruled. He could feel a rebellion in his chest, though that would have to wait.

For now, he was the water boy.

Bardock sighed in defeat as he trudged across the dirt plain, a grounds reserved for the upper-class to fight. Then he entered a compound with a press of a button, feeling dejected. No, this wasn't what was meant to be of him, but this would change one day.

He managed a smirk as he glanced back, seeing one boy take a swing at the other before the metal door closed behind him. They were disgraces, but he couldn't show them up without getting in trouble again. He remembered the last time he had beaten up a first-classer, putting him in charge of kitchen duty. And with the massive amount that Saiyans gorged themselves with, that had been torture for his fifteen-year-old self. But he was a year older, a year wiser. He knew better now than to allow his instinct to take the better of him, remembering how he had actually torn that boy's thumb off, and though the arrogant brat had deserved it, he knew it didn't do him any good to get in trouble. With satisfaction, however, he noted that it had certainly taught those first-classers to never mess with him.

He found two large, metal canisters sitting at the foot of a large machine. He held the mouths of them up to the spout of the contraption one at a time, allowing water to flow through and into the containers. Then he carried them quite effortlessly back outside, despite their being several gallons each. And as he came back, he was greeted by two thirsty Saiyans running up to him, stealing the jugs from his hand.

One of them, a tall and lanky one by the name of Onio, took a swig of the jug before shoving it back into Bardock's open arms and sneering, "See you, third-classer." Pars, the other boy who was considerably stockier with a lot of baby fat, chuckled lowly at the insult and also shoved his half-empty jug into Bardock's arms, running after his sparring partner. Bardock only clenched his teeth at the teasing, knowing that it wouldn't be worth getting into trouble by shoving Onio's face in. He didn't want to relive the nightmare of kitchen duty.

He ambled slowly towards the two boys, fighting again in the blazing heat. Bardock gazed up into the clear, red sky, staring at the battlements of King Vegeta's palace sitting in the distance. He wondered what it would be like to be able to stroll through that palace, taking the place of royalty for a day. Bardock had heard that the prince, only a few years older than him, was already sporting a fine moustache. The Saiyan rubbed at his own face, soft as a baby's bottom. At this rate, he would never grow so much as stubble, something that boys his age enjoyed making fun of him for.

He set the canisters of water down on the dry ground, slumping against the wall with his arms crossed. He watched as the two made fools of themselves, with Pars tossing his large body at Onio, almost knocking his competitor down. And then a few weak energy blasts would be exchanged, only to heighten the excitement of the match slightly. Bardock wasn't easily impressed, and this, he felt, was not impressive at all.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as the adult supervising this match left, probably for a bathroom break. He was ancient and apparently had a weak bladder, Bardock having seen him around on occasion. He sometimes wondered if the supervision was necessary for him more than it was for the two in the match after his little slip-up the year before, seeing as he had never remembered there being an adult watching over matches before. But this old man apparently trusted these three boys, almost men, enough to trust that they could be left alone for five, ten minutes without breaking out into an all-out brawl.

The elder, unfortunately, was wrong.

It hadn't been Bardock, to his own surprise, that had made the first move despite how eager he was to join this fight. He did want revenge for the boys having treated him like nothing, but his temper was so bad as to risk being hauled off to the kitchens again just because of a few words. No, he simply surveyed the match coolly, the back of his Saiyan armor protecting him from the heat of the stone wall. He pulled a little at the bandages tied around his hands, wrapped so as to protect his palms under circumstances in which a superior kicked him over and on to his knees for working too slow. He was tough for his age, but he wasn't stupid. Any chance to prevent scrape or cuts was a chance to prevent infection.

He had been idly playing the with white bandages when he heard a boy's voice yell, "Bardock!" He looked up at his name being called, seeing Onio signaling for him to come. "Don't you want to come and fight, third-classer?"

Bardock only snorted lightly, ignoring him as he lilted his head back down. It wasn't worth the kitchen, he told himself. But then he heard Pars' rougher, deeper voice as he taunted, "Come on, Bardock! Are you a wimp, now? You think we're gonna pound you in the ground like a galactic slug?" Bardock revealed a small smile at this, trying to overcome the urge to show the fat Saiyan just who was the galactic slug. And he succeeded, remembering the kitchens and the dreaded dishes that were waiting to be washed by hand.

But he found it harder to keep his head down as he sensed them approach him. "I think he's worse off than a galactic slug, because at least they have something up in their heads," Onio taunted, coming dangerously close to the third-class Saiyan. "I'd rather be a galactic slug than a Bardock!"

The boys laughed deeply before stopping only a few feet in front of the boy, their clean, white boots stirring the dirt beneath them. But Bardock was too proud to allow their insults go unnoticed, and he simply muttered, "I'm not stupid." As much as he would love to throw a few comebacks at their faces, he knew that they would only be grounds to fight. And a fight would be the first thing to send Bardock back to the kitchen.

A fight seemed inevitable, however. "Oh, so you're not stupid!" Pars exclaimed, as if surprised. He then pointed at the bandages wrapped around Bardock's hands, grinning maliciously. "If you're not stupid, then can you tell me what those are? Are those your third-class rags?" he asked, daring to poke the dangerous Saiyan. But Bardock did nothing, only heaving a large intake of air.

"I think it's what he uses to wipe," Onio jeered, gaining a hearty chuckle from his friend.

"Probably what his mother wrapped him in as a baby." Pars crossed his arms, snuffing the air. "Absolutely filthy."

Then Onio pretended to sympathize with Bardock, whispering, "Don't you remember that this poor boy doesn't have a mother? He's not as lucky as we are, being first-class." And Bardock winced at this, an anger flaming within him as they brought this point up. Third-class Saiyans were automatically taken away from their parents, sent to go on one dangerous mission as an infant. And if they survived, they were returned to Vegeta to basically serve as domestic servants until they reached legal age. Higher classes, even second-classers, had the choice of sending their children on these missions, though they almost always got their child back. Third-class children were never returned to their families, though, being stuck as an eternal orphan, their parents not even considered worthy of having children.

And then his heart stopped pounding all at once as he listened, carefully and closely, as Pars insincerely laughed, "I forgot! My apologies, Bardock, but it was probably better that you didn't get to know that broad of a mother of yours."

Bardock lifted his head, his upper lip twitching at this insult to his mother who he had never met. He suffered, not knowing who was his mother out of all of the women that he passed by. Any one of them in the markets could be his mother, and he was tortured with thoughts of what she could be like. There were many acceptable ways that he portrayed his mother, but a 'broad' was not one of them. He snarled furiously, "What did you call her?"

"A broad," Pars repeated proudly, bearing a smile and not noticing the expression of death on Bardock's sharp features. But Onio noticed this lust, this lust to kill in the third-class Saiyan's eyes, and backed away unsteadily. Never had he seen an expression as determined and fierce coming from a man so young, so tortured with thoughts of who his mother could be. His chest lurched, his heart pounding against it as he stared at the chubby Pars, and Onio knew exactly what would happen, though he was too shocked to warn his friend. And, all at once, it happened.

Bardock lunged forth, grabbing Pars around his blubbery neck and tackling him the the ground. The first-class Saiyan writhed helplessly under Bardock's mighty grip, surprising even Onio, who could only step back and witness the struggle. The lankier first-class Saiyan watched the ferocity in the way that Bardock had pinned his prey, suddenly remembering that this was the Saiyan who had wripped Pota's thumb off just the year before. So with a fear coursing through his veins, he snapped out of his paralysis of shock and ran off, screaming at the top of his lungs for somebody to help.

Bardock ignored Onio, his dark, beady eyes focused on Pars, whose face had turned a toxic blue with the constricting grip around his windpipe. "What did you call my mother?" he hissed through his teeth, baring them menacingly. There was no way that anybody would take advantage of him in a race of fighting peoples just for his class, not when he proved to be better than the first-classers, stronger. He jerked Pars in his grip, who wriggled desperately, repeating in a harsher tone, "What did you call my mother?"

But no words could pass through Pars' lips, and Bardock watched as they withered, the lack of oxygen depleting the boy's energy. And finally, when Pars had turned all but purple under his grip, he stood back up with a sneer of disgust on his face. He felt no sympathy for this boy, his conscience not damaged at all in this quick end to Pars' life. It took no energy to restrain himself from using a ki blast to get the boy's death over with, to allow him to die quickly and painlessly. He wanted to see this boy suffer, to see him suffer the same way that he had years ago. And so he stepped towards Pars once more, resting his dark boot on top of the Saiyan armor.

"Good-bye, you stupid galactic slug," Bardock whispered, bringing his foot down with full force to crash through Pars' Saiyan armor. And he watched unflinchingly as Pars' eyes rolled to the back of his head, only the whites with pink veins showing, his head tilted back and shaking slightly. Then he lifted his boot back out of the boy's throbbing chest, having stepped through a few vital organs, and examined his right boot with triumph, now stained with the red of bloody victory.

He grinned to himself, allowing his tongue to roll over his lips even as the elder and Onio returned, a flock of others staring incredulously at the scene. This was worth any punishment, the sweet glory of vengeance.

* * *

His victory was short lived, unfortunately. Many thought it to be impressive that a third-class Saiyan had taken on a first-class Saiyan and succeeded in defeating him, suggesting that they allow him off without sentence. But there was still the fact that he had murdered poor Pars, and some of the upper class sympathizers thought he needed a justifiable punishment. This was certainly far more severe than when he had merely torn off Pota's thumb, though it was also far more impressive. So each seemed to balance out one another, with many elders clearly approving of his actions that day, many disapproving, and he somehow ended up with the same punishment he had faced just the previous year.

He was back in the kitchen.

Though he enjoyed it just about as much as he had the year before, he was relieved to not have received a worse punishment. It was a good thing that Saiyans were such a blood-thirsty race, because from what he heard from outsiders, murder is an executable offense on many planets. And there was no way that he would be able to carry out a revolt when dead, making him very glad to still be alive. Plus, during his first day in the kitchen, scrubbing at the dishes, he found that he had a few admirers of his brave actions that previous day.

The most important one that he found out about, though, was Tora. He was of a thinner build than him, though he still had an impressive amount of meat to him. He had found the boy, only an inch taller than him, when they had been assigned on dishwashing duty together. And Bardock knew that he immediately liked this Tora boy the moment he worked up the courage to ask, "Did it smell?" And when asked to clarify, he had simply shrugged his thin shoulders and said, "You know, the guts. When you crushed Pars' chest with your boot, did it smell?"

And the boys bonded immediately afterward, mostly over their affinity for all things gory, being at that age for Saiyan boys. They found killing fascinating and talked of it often. And they would brag of their accomplishments in life to one another, Tora explaining that he had gotten the dreaded punishment of the kitchen by tussling with a first-classer and punching him so hard in the stomach that he threw up blood all over the royal carpets in the palace. Apparently, Prince Vegeta with his brown moustache and growing beard had stepped in the mess, having been preoccupied with thoughts of something else. Bardock couldn't help but imagine the regal prince, with his signature curly moustache, scrunching his face up in distaste. He was still jealous of the prince for being able to grow facial hair, but that was a fact he kept to himself.

So kitchen duty proved to not be too terrible of a punishment, what with them passing the time of day together. They were occasionally joined in by a large brute by the name of Borgos, who got the punishment very often but only for short intervals of time, such as a few days, for minor crimes. He was also a third-class Saiyan, and he had always been quiet, puzzling Bardock. But whenever he wasn't around, Tora took the privilege of explaining that he often was found beating up the younger children, a natural instinct for power hidden deep within him. Even this information didn't turn Bardock away from him, as it only justified that he was like them. He was just trying to get along, caught in the struggle of a third-classer caught in a world fit for first-classers alone.

It wasn't long before the two friends began plotting ways to bring down the Vegeta regime, talking only when supervisors had left the kitchen for moments at a time, or when they were lying in their cots one on top of the other, confined to these quarters. But as they listened in on gossip from the hired help, those weaker Saiyans that actually got paid to do simply tasks such as these, they learned that it was not the Vegetas at all that were in charge. There was apparently another man above them, a creepy alien of sorts who went by the name of Frieza. Bardock and Tora spent much of their time speculating just what he could look like, adding limbs and heads and fanged mouths to them each time they played this game, continually scrubbing away at dishes or mopping the floors. Much of their time as maids in the kitchen was spent wasted, but it did not all go to waste.

They decided that, together, they would form a group of fighters to go on missions in battalions. They weren't certain of a name yet, but they had two years to think of that, when it would be legal for them to create a squadron of fighters. The two disbanded after their three months of forced labor, but as they did so, they were completely unaware of how much the other would change in these years gone by.


	2. Revival

**Bardock is eighteen, in case you miss the first sentence. Enjoy the new adult and his adventures on his first day as a free citizen of Vegeta.**

When Bardock saw his eighteenth birthday, he believed himself to be the happiest Saiyan on the whole planet. He was free from the bonds of a life of slavery, and all because of one special day. It was amazing how much one day could mean to a race; he wasn't sure he would be able to live had he been born a day later, though he supposed that after making it through life this long, it was worth persevering for another day.

Bardock sat up, a breeze beating against his bare chest. He slept outside on a small hammock, near the outskirts of the town. He had technically been a servant to a particular first-class family ever since he was old enough to learn, though he saw it more as slavery. And it wasn't as if he was really just an indentured servant to them - no, he was technically owned by the whole government of Vegeta, able to be moved around from family to family. And he had found that happen often of the late, as he was an unrestrainable man. He did what pleased him, especially after that scrimmage with Pars two years earlier. That had boosted his ego even further than when he had pulled off that one fellow's finger, and he found himself getting into more and more fights due to restlessness. But never had he killed another Saiyan since.

Bardock pulled himself out of the makeshift cot of tarp, landing squarely on his sore feet. The day before had been spent out tilling the fields, a chore he was not used to. No, Saiyans were typically carnivorous, but with the latest additions of neighboring planets to their empire, they had been taking foreign vegetation and trying to grow it in the ground. But Vegeta's soil was good for nothing, as the farmers found out, making Bardock especially glad that Saiyans consumed meat. Had they been an herbivorous race, they would have all died out long ago.

He rolled his broad shoulders back and stretched, yawning as he did so. He still had a little bit of blubber on his body, but his muscles were far better defined than they had been just two years previously. And he had begun enjoying his newfound size as he had begun noticing the Saiyan women in the marketplace for the first time, as if he had never seen them before. No, it hadn't been until recent months that he had realized just how beautiful they were, his passion for gore and violence fading a little in the background. Now he found himself obsessing over his looks, having never been so vain before. He held a small mirror he had stolen from his previous masters' house, holding it up to his face for inspection. Still no hint of stubble.

Bardock strolled around the side of the house, a rather large one. The houses on Vegeta were extremely simple, made of the hard clay of the ground and outfitted with basic necessities. It wasn't until one went further into the city that technology became more pronounced in the lives of the Saiyans, having all of these different technologies introduced by the supposed Frieza regime. He still wasn't sure if the whole thing was a myth, but it was more exciting to believe that his planet was being overrun by a bunch of capitalists. It certainly would make sense, seeing as he'd seen all of these signs of planets for sale popping up in windows.

He almost landed a fist on the metal door, ready to knock on it and tell the family of his leaping. But he decided that he didn't even want to see this family again. They had been as snobby as the first-classers before, and the ones before, and Bardock didn't think he would grace them by announcing his departure. No, they would wake up to find the Saiyan gone, his few belongings swept up with him.

He hustled back around the side of the house, quickly squeezing into his Saiyan armor with his furry tail wrapping comfortably around his waist once more. Then he pulled the fingerless, green gloves on his hands, given to him only a year back because a first-class family found the bandages he always wrapped his hands in to be insanitary. He stepped into his boots, giving one last glance towards the mirror, perched against the adobe wall. He sniffed, turning his head away. He would find other mirrors to look at himself in, to make sure he was clean enough to present himself to women. He rubbed at his chin absentmindedly as he finished sliding his foot into a dark boot, noting that the sooner he could grow some impressive facial hair, the better. But as of now, there was still not so much as stubble.

After kicking off into the air, he waved down at a few Saiyans working in the community field, even at this ungodly hour. Vegeta was odd in that anything less than a Saiyan could not serve on the planet, yet Saiyans were all supposed to be noble. Somehow, he thought that working in fields with fruitless attempt to growing foreign vegetables wasn't a very noble thing to do, but all of that would change as soon as he started that rebellion. It was only within the palace that foreign inhabitants were allowed, and even they were better treated than most of these slaves. They were scientists, or so they were called, but Bardock couldn't trust them from the descriptions given to him. They were apparently all grotesque, none of them capable of fighting. And Bardock didn't trust anybody who didn't know how to throw a few punches.

The Saiyans in the field yelled their farewells, jealous of him having hit the age. Some of them were close, but some of the smaller ones still had years to go. He remembered feeling that becoming eighteen would take ages, though it hadn't seemed to take too long, now that he was there. He had stayed out of trouble for the most part, only getting sent to kitchen duty a few, short times after that time that lasted months. And he had found it to be desperately lonely without Tora, but that was all about to change. Now that he was eighteen, he would go to meet his old friend for the first time in years.

Bardock drifted along, not in any particular hurry. He had to plan out exactly how he would meet Tora again, and though they had already spent those three months as kitchen slaves mapping out exactly what to do, security had changed. Tora was still at the palace, not yet eighteen, and it used to be that a citizen could simply walk through the lower levels of the palace, no questions asked. King Vegeta, however, had passed on, and though the royal family had claimed it to be of illness, Bardock had wondered if it was an assassination. There were several revolts, he knew, and each of them had been subdued. He wasn't certain of what they were for, but he figured it had to be about this unfair social hierarchy. No matter the cause, though, security measures had been bumped up a notch after Prince Vegeta, the one with the impressive moustache and tufts of hair on his own chin, had been made king. Now it was necessary to have an escort legalized to make his way into the palace, but he figured that it would be simple enough. He was charismatic and witty, and he figured that he would quite easily be able to talk some sucker into bringing him within the palace confines.

He landed a little ways away from the palace's public front door, lingering just out of the guard's sight. He grinned to himself in the reflection of a shop window, making sure that his characteristic, spiky hair had not lost its bounce, and it hadn't. Then he stood there, leaning against the shop selling foreign meats and other delicacies, forced to import almost everything to this planet. He folded his arms against his chest, waiting for prey.

He used to live around this sector, having lived with a nobleman of the court and his family. But after making a few swings at his daughter just a year or so younger than him, he had been quickly relocated after a thrashing and a talk of how she would never marry third-class scum like him. He growled at the memory, feeling his anger take him. She had been a good-looking girl, and he wondered if she still lived around here, seeing as that incident had only taken a few months before. But he had a mission at the moment, knowing that he shouldn't get distracted.

His dark eyes trailed over a few passerby who browsed through the outdoor marketplace at the end of the street, just close enough for his keen eyes to observe. He watched a few ancient women huddled together, having never seen a Saiyan age so ripely. But to his misfortune, the group didn't go his way, heading for the palace. They disappeared in a throng of others, a mixture of tall, strong-looking Saiyans. He scowled, needing easy targets who needed to get into the palace. But in the hour he stood, waiting in the heat of the crowd as the stench of intergalactic fish swelled in the air, he saw not one person enter the palace.

It was then that he saw the perfect person for his plan to unfold. She was young, around his age, with short, black hair and a pretty face. She looked like just the type to fall for his rugged looks, and as he saw her pass him after giving him a quick glance, he grinned mischievously. She was at the gate with the overweight guard, not really a gate at all. It was just a path that led up to the palace, protected by one soldier to prevent any intruders. It wasn't much of a threat, but now that he was eighteen, he knew that punishment for trespassing on royal property would be far more severe than simply washing dishes.

Arching his back slightly so as to gain a better view of the scene from around the building, he watched her while formulating a plan in the back of his mind. He had never been known for his strategies, and so this could end up ugly. But he allowed his eyes to lower from her head as she talked to the guard, pulling something out of the leathery satchel hanging over her shoulder. And Bardock stole this opportunity to dash out from his hiding place, immediately edging around the corner to fine another place closer to his victim.

He slipped from the shadows of the towering building to behind a large pillar used to support the structure. Then, poking his head out cautiously from behind it so as to not attract the guard's attention, he whispered, "Psstt... C'mere, girl." The woman with a shaggy head of hair turned around as the guard inspected the identification card she had handed to him, hearing some noise. Bardock grinned smugly to himself, taking the advantage of looking over her long, muscular legs, uncovered by the particular type of suit she was wearing. But he jerked his eyes from them to meet her face again, realizing that she did look a bit older now, and hissed again, "C'mere, girl with the short hair and long legs."

He smiled in what he thought was a charming manner, but as he saw the girl lock eye contact with her, he only saw a glare returned. She muttered something to the guard, who gave her a quizzical look but held on to her card. Then she stalked towards him calmly, a fist on her him with her thin eyebrows furrowed. And as Bardock gazed at her, he couldn't help but think that she was one of the prettiest Saiyan women he had seen, with her small dark eyes scrutinizing him suspiciously.

"What do you want?" she spat, clenching her hands in their long, white gloves, covering up her humiliation with fury. Here was some roguish third-classer, notable by his spiky, black hair, talking about her physical appearances. And she knew that the guard had also heard, as a small peep of a laugh had escaped his lips.

Bardock didn't notice these warning signs until he moved his eyes from her body back up to her face, having been nodding to himself absentmindedly in appreciation. But the next thing he saw was a gloved fist held up to his face, the woman behind it repeating, "What did you call me here for, boy?"

He laughed a little unsteadily, glancing towards the guard who was looking their way in confusion. He pushed the fist down with his larger, rougher hand, explaining, "I need you to get me into the palace. You see, I've got a friend in there that I've got to meet." Then he threw a smirk at her, hoping that she would fall head over heels for it. He had been practicing it quite often in the mirror, but apparently to no avail.

With a strength that caught him off-guard, she shook her clenched fist out of his grip and placed her hands solidly against his chest armor, pushing him over and on to the ground, making a cloud of red dust rise up from underneath him. He looked up at her in disbelief as she sharply muttered, "Nobody touches me without my consent." Then she proceeded to clap her hands together, wiping the dirt off of her gloves carefully. Then she placed her fist back on her hip, stepping forth to put a white boot on his armor, just as he had done to Pars two years before. But she didn't sink her boot through his chest mercilessly like he had before, instead pointing down at him threateningly and jabbing, "Nobody touches me. Got that?"

He appreciated the view from underneath her too much to say a word, not daring to open his mouth lest he let something slip that would grant her permission to kill him on the spot. So he simply lay there silently, feeling blood rush to his cheeks as he felt the urge to laugh, but he pressed his lips together more tightly to contain that outburst. Instead, the two watched each other, her eyes scrutinizing his face as his eyes wondered elsewhere, until she finally relieved the pressure of her boot on his chest, stepping back a few steps.

She waited there a little ways before he pulled himself up, rubbing at his aching ribcage. She had used quite a bit of force on him, likely leaving a bruise there, but he didn't care at the moment. He only winced slightly as he stood up to his full height. She certainly was lucky that she was a woman, and a pretty one at that, or he would have pulverized her for injuring him.

And similar thoughts ran through her mind, too, as she examined him. He was about a head and a half taller than her, and without spandex underneath his armor, she could see some definition of his muscular arms. He certainly was an impressive specimen, surprising her. This third-class urchin was obviously powerful, but his hair clearly showed just how low on the social ladder he was. Probably a strong fighter, though that would have to be proven in a fight. And that idea, the very idea of a fight, was very tempting to her.

"Fight me," she demanded, holding her arms up expertly. She had been trained her whole life, so she knew that she would be able to put an end to this brawl before anything became too intense. But he intrigued her, and she had never fought a third-classer before. First-classers, yes, but she mainly stuck with beating those in her own class. "Fight me, and I will let you in to meet up with your friend."

Bardock blinked dumbly a few times before placing his arms up, a smarmy grin finding its way back on his face to hide his shock. "Sounds good to me, long legs," he called, getting a blush of anger and embarrassment out of her as the guard watched. He was surprised by this offer, having not imagined this small, delicate girl fighting, but he supposed that she was a Saiyan.

Besides those who signed up for dishwashing duty in the kitchen, all Saiyans had the urge to fight. It was as much a part of their blood as turning into monkeys was, and he always accepted a challenge. Of course, with his confidence, this match wouldn't be much of a challenge. He would walk away unharmed, and she would have no choice but to lead him to Tora.

The fight started with Bardock edging towards her, only to have the woman leapt forth and bring her elbow crashing down on his arms, breaking his defenses. Then, as she swung one of these long legs at Bardock's head, he ducked quickly and grabbed it. Now, with her knocked off balance, he brought his own foot forth to kick at her head, now fallen to the dirt floor. But she contorted her flexible body so that her torso was bent upwards, leaving him to kick at the ground. And with this surprise at this sudden motion, she managed to grab his calloused hand holding her leg in her mouth, sinking her canine teeth into his hardened flesh to draw blood.

The large guard watched this dirty tussle for a moment, caught in between the decision of stopping it and watching it. But as he saw the woman break free of the third-classer's grip, flipping back to land unsteadily on her boots, the guard backed down. He glanced down at her indentification card, unable to decide if it would be wise to allow this second-class woman to be taken on by a third-class man. It certainly was a fight to spice up his rather boring day at work, but he couldn't decide whether risking his job was worth it or not. He sighed, pocketing the card in a pouch he had hanging around his waist. If something happened to her pretty face, he hoped that he wouldn't be the one held liable.

Bardock growled as she place a well-aimed kick at his abdomen, not even cracking the armor with her trembling force. But it hurt, having that bruise swelling just above that area. With his yellowed teeth gritted, he dove forth, lunging for her ankle and knocking her off of her balance again, a dirty trick if he had ever learned one. She yelped, but in her fall down ot his level, she managed to elbow him in the head. He snarled, already sick of this business of toying with her. So with a blow a little harder than he had intended to do, he brought his two hands, furled into one ball, swinging at her abdomen. Then he only heard a scream of anguish, with the mysterious woman rolling over on to her stomach, her hands brought to her stomach.

He jumped back, leaping on to his feet once more as he watched her carefully. The guard ran forth, his fears having been realized. He picked up the fallen woman, trying to sling her over his shoulder only to be pushed away. Hysterically, she pushed the guard down, backing away from the two with an arm over her injured stomach. Then, with her other gloved hand successfully covering up the bottom half of her face, she glared at Bardock and snapped, "What was that for, you moron?"

He was taken by surprise, clamping one hand over the other where she had broken skin by biting into it. "What was what for?" he asked angrily, showing his own hand with two small punctures in it. "I fought fairly - you're the one that bit me!"

"You knocked me over twice!" she seethed, lowering her hand to show blood pouring out of the edges of her mouth from the impact on her stomach. Her black hair was stuck up in the front, smudges of dirt over her face where he had slammed her down. Then she took her arm and wiped the blood off, cringing in pain as she did so. "And that last punch to the stomach was unfair!" She bent over, coughing up thick globs of red, allowing it drip to the ground.

"How was that unfair?" he asked heatedly, his thick eyebrows furrowed as he walked closer towards her, only to have her step back uneasily. "You asked for a fight, and you got one! Did you think I was going to go easy on you for being a little princess? No!" His own anger surprised him, but she was being unreasonable. Yes, he had intended this simply be a spar, seeing as he didn't think of fighting women. But she fought like a man, something that he quickly respected. She fought like a man, and her tactics were better than his own. It had only been pure strength that had put him on top, allowed him to beat her with relatively minor injuries.

She heaved a little, proceeding to wipe her face again with her forearm as she glared at him. Ignoring his protests, knowing that he was right, she instead asked, "What's your name?" He was certainly a talented fighter, for a third-classer, at least.

"Pota," he immediately replied, having that answer ready for anybody who asked. He didn't want anybody to realize that he was a third-class Saiyan, and he knew that giving a name like Bardock would only be a dead giveaway. But little did he realize that his hair was already what made it plainly obvious.

The woman, however, didn't care. She realized he was lying, and she could have easily nagged him, forcing him to reveal his real name. Instead, however, with her hand still clenched over her stomach, she asked, "And what's the name of your friend?"

"Tora," he said, this time honestly. It would have been of no good to him to have given out an alias for his friend. He waited with bated breath, standing back up to his full height, as he saw the crippled figure give him an odd look. She parted her mouth as if to say something, but then she simply turned away, hobbling off towards the palace.

He stared after her departing figure as she yelled hoarsely, "Wait there!" And he managed a smirk, admiring her retreating self. She had been a strong fighter, a worthy opponent. He definitely wouldn't mind sparring with her again. But at the moment, he helped the overweight guard up and off of his rear end, getting a shake of the head in disbelief from him. Without the two exchanging words, they both plopped down on opposite sides of the road leading up to the palace. And they waited.

* * *

Nearly an hour had passed, and Bardock was bored. He didn't have the bandages on his hands to fiddle around with anymore, so he contented himself to drawing shapes in the dirt, most of them being rather crude. The guard said nothing, occasionally taking some card out of his pocket from time to time and looking at it. Bardock spent that hour chuckling to himself half-heartedly whenever he managed to create something especially gruesome in the dirt. When he took his forefinger away from the dry ground for a final time, proudly examining his work filled with women and blood and what he imagined aliens to look like, he glanced up.

And in the distance, his ability to sense energies never lying, he saw Tora.

Tora hadn't become much taller, though he had lost the awkward lankiness of boyhood. Now he was solid, though still not as thick at the shoulders as Bardock was. Bardock smirked a little to see his unruly, black hair combed back into a ponytail, sitting at the base of his neck. But his rectangular face, even without untamed hair flying around it anymore, looked much the same. There was a familiar, childish grin on his friend's face, so inviting after two years of being absent in his life. And Bardock wanted to run up and embrace his friend, to welcome him back. But he felt too manly now to show such affection, and espcially in front of the guard, who was watching Tora with interest.

As he stood up and patted his pants off, however, he felt Tora's strong arms around him. "Bardock!" he yelled jubilantly, having run from the bridge to where his friend had been resting. Bardock grunted, considering shoving him off of him and teaching him a lesson in how to be a man, but he enjoyed being in somebody's care for the first time in years. Never had he been given a chance to develop a bond like he had in those months in the kitchen, but here he was, back with his best friend.

They pulled apart from one another, Tora fervently grabbing him at arm's length. "You've changed so much!" he exclaimed, looking his friend over. Facially, Bardock hadn't changed at all, though his build did scream that of a man's. "Happy birthday, Bardock!"

"Thanks," Bardock muttered, trying to avoid catching Tora's enthusiasm, as if it was some bad cold. But as with most diseases on Vegeta, it was contagious, and Bardock found himself grinning away, revealing his yellowed teeth from a diet consisting mostly of raw meat. He couldn't find words to describe how happy he felt, and he was immediately relieved when Tora delved into important topics, such as how it felt to be a legal adult and when they would carry out their plans of forming a squadron. Bardock tried answering all of these questions and more, though he continually found one thing bothering him, sticking out in his mind. It was finally, when Tora was in the midst of describing his duties as a slave in the palace, that Bardock worked up the courage to ask, "Who was that girl? The one in the pink Saiyan armor, with short hair."

Tora cocked his head, having never met such a girl. But it was then that the guard spoke up, his throat congested from not having spoken all morning. The two turned their heads to him as he said, "Her name's Fasha. She's a second-classer, in case you want to know."

Bardock stepped forth, his dull eyes sparking with curiosity. "How old is she?" he asked immediately, unable to forget the way that she had sauntered towards him so coolly, so frighteningly. "Does she live here?"

The guard only mumbled incoherently, taking something out of his pouch pocket and holding it up for Bardock to take. The third-classer wasted no time taking it from the sitting Saiyan, regarding the identification card she had just given the guard earlier. A crafty smirk formed on his rough face as Tora stared over his shoulder, the two of them glancing from the tiny portrait on one side to the information written on the other. And Bardock only shook his head, his eyes glazing over the information. Twenty years old, five foot two, black eyes, black hair. And then he skimmed the lengthier descriptions, ones describing how her father worked was in charge of projects on armor and other such things, being a scientist, of sorts.

But Bardock's eyes kept darting back to the picture, staring at her fine features, her petite nose, her large eyes with those small, cunning pupils, her malicious smirk. The crooked smile on his face only grew as Tora asked innocently, "Who is she?" He had heard from the servant who had told him to go outside, a friend awaiting him, that the messenger had been a woman whose description fit this image. But how did she and Bardock know each other?

Bardock, however, only replied, "A good fighter, one that I plan on recruiting for our team." Then, quite mischievously, he added, "And, while we're at it, I also certainly wouldn't mind letting her take a ride on my galactic slug, if you know what I mean."

Tora only grimaced at his friend's immaturity, having been more used to his humor being gore-related, not female-related. But even as he crossed his arms in protest, he wondered if Bardock was on to something. If they were planning to have a crew put together by the time they had both turned eighteen, they only had a few months remaining. Tora bit his bottom lip, wondering what other Saiyans could make valuable additions to their team. A proper team needed five people. They had two with them, a possible third in the picture, though there were two more remaining. To their fortune, it would be within the next two years that they would meet an old friend and encounter a new, though it would take these two years to finally create their squadron.


	3. Release

**Phew! This was quite a chapter for me to write, and it took quite a bit out of me. =) Now, even if you don't like the Fasha/Bardock pairing, give this a try. This is the as close to romance as I will ever get, if it can be considered 'romance'. And you really, really have to trust me - there is a reason why this isn't in the romance category.**

Bardock pinched his nose in frustration, trying not to lash out at the poor creature. He paced away so as to prevent any chance of accidentally killing the supposed scientist, and with his eyes closed, he asked slowly, his voice having developed over the past few years so that it was deep and gruff, "What do you mean, our pods aren't ready?"

This was supposed to be the big day. This was the day that his newly developed team was to be sent on their first assignment, and he had just been rejected it after years of waiting. He had worked so hard, what with gathering three others to add to the tiny crew of Tora and himself, and he had just received this bit of aggravating news. This first mission was to be delayed once more after years of preparation, unfair to a Saiyan who lusted for killing. The upper classes got to revel in glory, sent on missions all throughout their meaningless lives, but not him. No, not when he had been harboring a passion for murder for the past years of his life, forced to put this fulfillment of destroying another planet on hold.

He avoided eye contact with the scientist, a small, green, shriveled, bird-like thing, so grotesque in the proud Saiyan's mind. It wouldn't be satisfying to kill the thing, though he so longed to do so, even as the thing explained in a tiny, nervous voice, "Well, Lord Frieza needed two of your space pods for one of his elites and a henchman, an elite that goes by the name of Zarbon. But if you give my another few weeks, I'll be certain to create a-"

"We need them now," Bardock explained with an acrid edge to his words, letting them slip through gritted teeth. Tora, who had been leaning against the metallic wall in disappointment, heard this warning tone in his friend's voice. He instantly pried himself off of the wall, moving to place a comforting hand on Bardock's shoulder in an attempt to calm him. But the angered Saiyan only shuddered a breath of anger, still turned away from everybody else in the room, restraining the urge to kill the scientist.

"I'm sorry, but as I said before, there are only three space pods," the scientist tried explaining once more, rather flustered now. He didn't mind dealing with Saiyans when they were reasonable, but this one seemed particularly unstable. The scientist could feel sweat forming on his wrinkled forehead as he ducked to the other side of the laboratory, hiding behind a particularly fat Saiyan.

It took a few minutes before the captain of the crew spoke again, fighting to subdue his anger with his taller, tan friend placing a hand on his back. But then Bardock whipped back around, opening his eyes and allowing them to trail over his team. There was Tora on his immediate left, astonished by this sudden motion, darting his eyes warily away as if to ascertain that he wasn't about to satisfy himself blasting the scientist away. But Bardock ignored his friend, allowing his eyes to trail over the rest of the group they had formed over the past two years. There was Fasha, perched on a few crates towards the corner with her long legs crossed, her gloved hands holding on to the edge of the box as she glanced curiously towards the nervous scientist. Then there was Borgos, simply sitting on the ground rather stupidly, staring at one spot in front of him. And finally, there was Shugesh, a fat Saiyan with pasty skin that they had found also working at the palace, only a few years older than Fasha. He was up against the wall in the same way that Tora had been earlier, before moving across the room in an attempt to ease his friend's anger.

The pounding in Bardock's chest subsided as he stared the creature in the eyes, walking slowly towards him. Then, in an attempt to remedy the situation, he demanded, "We will double up, then." The scientist winced at the suggestion, about to nay it, when his voice was overruled by Bardock continuing, "I will double up with Fasha, and Tora will double up with one of the other two."

Fasha only released an exasperated sigh at such a command, also speaking over the tiny scientist's attempts at refuting such an idea. "I'll be going alone, Bardock," she informed him, locking eye contact with the captain. "You can pair up with the sitting potato right here or the pumpkin over there." She sniffed disdainfully and ignored Shugesh's mumbles of protest. She had already established her boundaries. She had no interest in Shugesh, who was the only one older than her, as he had despicable table manners and an overall unkempt appearance. Then there was Borgos, a year younger than her, but he was quiet and unintelligible, only opening his mouth when there was food set before him. And finally, there were the two youngest ones, Bardock and Tora, who were easily the best-looking men in the group. But she even had her reservations with them, as Bardock was a hot-tempered, chauvinistic slug with all of his fruitless attempts of impressing her, and Tora was too meek and subservient.

She shook her head, unable to imagine sharing a space pod with anybody, let alone with Bardock, who was the one that scared her the most. But the captain crossed his large arms against his new Saiyan armor, green and heavy, something he had requested when Fasha's father had taken orders. "You have to share with somebody," he said harshly, moving closer towards her, cutting the scientist off once more as he had tried getting a word in. "You and Tora are the smallest two out of the lot, so you all have to share. And since I'm captain, I get to choose who I share with."

"Please, I would much rather share with anybody else," she said nonchalantly, though she immediately wished she could retract her statement. She immediately averted her eyes from Bardock, whose expression only harden more. She had to be careful around him, because he was the only one that she saw as a real threat. He was physically capable of overpowering her, as proven whenever they fought, and he was the only one not afraid of this power. He would exert his if she allowed him to, always looking for something weaker to dominate in a world where he was considered low-class and weak himself. This love of power was the reason why the two of them never sparred alone, though that was mainly due to Tora being overprotective. Bardock may have been the strongest of them all, but even having a witness was enough to prevent him from hurting her whenever he felt restless. Like today.

"What's wrong with sharing a pod with me?" he asked defensively, glaring at her. He shrugged Tora's palm off of his shoulder, his eyes narrowing as he looked her over. And she watched as he ran that wicked tongue on the edge of his mouth, that signature lick of the lips that came after victory. She pressed a hand to her chest in fear, watching as he stepped closer, that spark of lust in his eyes.

But all at once, it disappeared as Shugesh bellowed, "Leave her alone, Bardock! If anybody's going with her, it's me." And the tension in the air broke as he belched loudly, Fasha thanking him inside. It was rare that Bardock seemed so intent on having her for himself, but whenever he did, Fasha couldn't help but shiver. There was that odd gleam in his eyes as he stared at her in such an unnerving way, rattling her defenses. She released a sigh, her eyes closed as Bardock gave her one last lookover, then turning his attention to the timid scientist.

"You all can't double up, anyways," the shriveled scientist informed them as he finally got a word in between the Saiyans. He attempted to look the captain of the crew in the eyes without flinching, but Bardock just stared at the alien, his expression still hardened, unchanging even at this news. His mind was still on Fasha, Fasha with her accursed long legs and constant rejections, even as the thing explained, "Each individual must wear a separate gas mask for the soporific effects to take place, allowing you to sleep during the whole two month journey." Bardock mouth twitched as he thought of something he would far rather do those two months if he shared a pod with Fasha, something that the woman was clearly afraid of. But he only shook his head, lilting his head downwards as he tried focusing on what the scientist was telling them. "There are some older models that may or may not be safe to use, but you all are welcome to them. If you five are so intent on going, I see no reason of why your team can't take two of them. I must warn you, however, that they may combust into flames when leaving this atmosphere and entering another. These came from a production of duds, but there's a good chance that they'll get you through."

"We'll take them," Tora immediately said, Bardock still silent with his head lowered and lips pressed together angrily. The scientist nodded and scurried out, eager to get away from the dangerous Saiyan and his crew. And once the scientist had fled, the metal door sliding shut behind him, Tora said, "Borgus and I will take the older ones, okay?"

Borgus didn't say a thing, content with simply staring at the floor, something that Tora took to be a 'yes'. Nobody said another word, though, for the next ten minutes. In fact, nobody moved much, except for Tora allowing his hand to fall from his friend's back to his own side, turning his tan face away awkwardly. He hated these tense moments between crew members, and he knew that there was something wrong between the captain and the one female of the group. He had known of Bardock's crush on her years ago, when they had first met, him always trying to charm her with his antics. That flirting had stopped with her briefly when the training for outer space became more intense, a relief to Tora. He had often advised his friend to leave her alone, especially since crew members weren't supposed to have intimate relationships with one another, and Fasha didn't seem interested anyways. But then, as of late, Tora had caught Bardock staring at her with an odd look in his eyes. Tora said nothing, though, simply allowing this behavior to continue, though he realized now that it was his time to stamp all of this foolishness out. It was his job as Bardock's best friend to put him back in his place, to help him be the best captain possible.

It was finally when the scientist returned, telling the group to follow him, that Tora insisted Bardock stay behind with him. Bardock agreed with a grumble, eyeing Fasha as she made her way out of the room and with the rest of the group. The captain listened reluctantly as his friend pulled him to the corner of the room, waiting for the metal door to close again before whispering, "What's wrong, Bardock? You've been acting strangely." There was no reply, with Bardock simply readjusting his green gloves, pulling them further up on his hands. "What's going on between you and Fasha?" There was a snort of disbelief, anger at hearing the name, forcing Tora to push him away, to get a better view of his friend. He held Bardock at arm's length and looked him straight in the eyes in an inspection for deceit or betrayal. There was something lurking in the depths of Bardock's small pupils, something that worried Tora. With an ashen face, something odd to see on skin as tan as his, he asked anxiously, "Bardock, you and Fasha haven't..."

Mated. Bardock closed his eyes, shaking his head as his friend trailed off. Then, a little hoarsely and with a hint of his old spirit, he admitted, "No, but I'd like to, though." He gave a short snort of a laugh, quite bitter about this whole business. He hated Fasha for what she had turned him into. Whereas only a year or so before he had thought himself a stunner, able to attract any woman's attention, he had lost this suave manner. He had been left rejected with an even quicker temper than he had had when younger, and now he couldn't be with Fasha without wanting to either senselessly destroy her for making him a lovestruck fool or make love with her for destroying his common sense. Life had been difficult for the man, and even his best friend was unwilling to sympathize with him, as he found out.

"Snap out of it," Tora urged in a pleading tone, his face one of despair. "Our team could get disbanded if you think like that; you know that relationships between crew members are banned."

Bardock shook his head slightly, muttering, "I know, I know." He clenched his teeth together, knowing that he had to do something about this whole business, lest the team fall apart before they even complete their first mission. He felt, however, that the only thing he could do to make amends of such a problem would be to do something Tora would forbid him from doing. But his carnal urges were too strong, this lust for power too strong for even him to restrain. And, quite stupidly, he had recruited the one woman that would be able to satisfy these needs of his.

"Don't worry about anything, and let's go ahead with the mission," Tora said after deciding that his friend didn't need a lecture. He found that his attempt to lighten up the atmosphere had succeeded a little, as that permanent scowl on Bardock's face softened up. Bardock even managed a tiny grin, a bit insincere, as Tora clapped him on the back and led him towards the doorway. "Now, let's talk about what we're going to do there. These guys they're sending us to fight against aren't too strong, or so I've heard, meaning that our Oozaru forms can easily take them out..." Bardock nodded off, allowing Tora to ramble on. But Bardock's mind was on one thing as Tora led him to the room with the space pods, tracking the others with the scouters given to them only a few days before, talking of how incredible they were.

He scowled, knowing that in order to establish a platonic relationship with Fasha, he would have to work backwards. He thought back to the day they had recruited her, being only a few weeks after he had fought her for that first time at the ripe age of eighteen. He had managed to find her with her father up in one of those battlements of the palace that he used to long to be in, so many years ago, when he had simply been the wandering water boy. He had managed to talk her into joining, believing that he had won her affections over. But he had been terribly wrong, having not realized how devoted to fighting she was. She agreed because of her love of battle, not her love of him. And now he would have to fix this all, all with one, quick decision on her part. All she had to do was say 'yes', even if it was the same, silent 'yes' that Borgos often gave. Then they could fix this relationship, starting over from the beginning.

And in his mind, he allowed the cogs to spin. He would wait until they reached the planet, two months from that moment, and wait until all of the others were gone. Then he would move.

* * *

The first thing that Bardock heard after stepping out of his space pod, pulling the gas mask off of his face quite violently, was Shugesh complaining about how hungry he was. He gritted his teeth as he popped the door to the silver sphere open, having not spared a second glance out of the red window. But he allowed himself to ignore the fat Saiyan's ramblings, instead looking up to the sky, hoping that the others would make it. He wanted Fasha to arrive, most certainly, but it was Borgos and Tora that he was most worried about. He had tried talking Tora out of taking the old, defective space pod when they were standing outside of them, everybody else already snuggled into their cocoons, gas masks on their faces as they prepared for flight. But Tora pulled himself into the older model, arguing that Bardock was the leader of the team. If something happened to him, the whole crew would fall apart.

Bardock had scowled, watching as Tora had strapped himself in, lowering the mask to his face and succumbing to slumber within seconds. Then he paced before the row of pods, examining each of his teammates expressions through the round, red windows as the scientist scrambled to close Tora's pod. There was Borgos with his blank expression, his eyes closed peacefully as if drifting already through mindless dreams. Then there was Shugesh, his eyebrows relaxed, his face content for the first time Bardock had ever seen it without munching on some food, as primeval as Borgos in such a way. And then there was Fasha, whose wrinkled forehead was smooth, the usual list of anxieties tacked at the front of her brain having been overridden by the sleeping gas. And then he moved in front of Tora's pod, looking at his co-captain, bowing his head slightly in respect. He was planning on betraying the best friend he had ever had, and he hoped that it would all be worth ever ounce of treachery.

He glanced towards the scientist, who squawked with his glare and leapt back. Then he stepped into his own pod, pulling the lid down himself. He strapped himself in, his last thoughts not about Fasha, but rather about Tora. There was something bothering him, something deep down that made him wonder if it wouldn't be wiser to simply stay here as dishwashers for the rest of their puny lives. But without a second thought, he pulled the gas mask over his own face, waiting for a few seconds before its effects of sleepiness kicked in.

Now here he was, the mindlessness of those sleeping gases unable to ease his worries. But his tightened fists loosened as he noticed two objects plummeting, hitting the solid, rocky ground about a mile off of their target. Tapping the green scouter on the side of his head, he quickly realized that these two were Fasha and Borgos. He set his jaw in place, considering flying over there to meet them, but figuring that it would be smarter to stay put. At that moment, it was Tora at the top of his list of worries. Fasha was safe as far as he could tell, still reading a power level from her along with Borgos and Shugesh, but he couldn't be certain of whether Tora had made it through the atmosphere safely. For all Bardock knew, Tora could have burnt to a crisp two months ago, caught in Planet Vegeta's powerful atmosphere.

But he was relieved as his scouter picked up another energy level from the sky, and before he knew it, he could see a pod diving down. This pod was a bit too accurate for his tastes, though, and Bardock leapt out of the way, tumbling to the side just as the pod crashed into the cracked ground where he had been moments before. Bardock panted, his hand flying to his chest as he watched Tora emerge unsteadily, having pushed all of his restraints off in record time. Then he stumbled out, allowing Bardock to catch him, only to be disgusted as his friend barfed all over his boots.

"Tora!" he growled, though he couldn't help but suppress a smile, dragging Tora away from his own mess and laying him down on the ground. Space travel was definitely not kind on his friend, who gazed up at him with a wide-eyed expression, Shugesh holding his stomach with hearty laughter all the while.

"S-sorry," Tora managed to say tentatively, his throat sore from having not used it in several months. And Bardock felt bad for the man, remembering how awfully he had always performed during those landing simulations back on planet Vegeta. He had always tried skipping them when possible, and to his own misfortune, Bardock had often let him. Now the captain regretted it, pulling his boots off in disgust and wiggling his spandex-clad toes freely, allowing them to feel the gravelly ground beneath him.

Bardock only grunted at this apology, though, as he set his dark boots on the ground. The texture of the dirt was rough on his feet, mainly consisting of small, rocky shards and tiny pebbles. He grimaced, though before he could complain about how much of a trouble Tora was, he sensed two energies approaching in the distance. With a hand placed on his hip, a large sigh escaping his lips, he saw Fasha and Borgos flying towards them in the darkness that Bardock assumed was night.

The captain waved the approaching two down, yelling, "Watch where you land! Tora couldn't hold his stomach again!" And he heard a dark, feminine chuckle, Fasha having forgotten all of her anxieties about being near Bardock during the time cooped up in her space pod. Her nightmares of the intimidating Saiyan had quickly melted into dreams, which then had faded into nothingness, the sleeping gas having been too powerful for her small weight. But it hadn't been strong enough to knock Bardock senseless, who still remembered his plans of betrayal, everybody else so unsuspecting. He regarded Fasha's tiny frame, the green scouter aiding in his night vision, as she touched down on the crusty ground with Borgos following right behind her.

Shugesh was still chortling in the background as Fasha approached poor Tora, kneeling down by him and asking gently, "Are you okay?" She reserved her sympathy for this member of the team alone, the one that she didn't believe could handle her usual raucous mannerisms and crude insults. She had managed to even stifle her laugh as he turned his head towards her, blinking his eyes slowly as if in some dazed stupor. Then, with one hand on the ground, the other on his queasy stomach, he managed to push himself up in an attempt to gain a little leverage.

"I'm fine," the sick man murmured, though the greenish tinge to his skin said otherwise. He smirked barely as he patted his abdomen with slight satisfaction, turning his eyes to the contents of his stomach lying at his feet. Then he looked up at Bardock and asked, "Well, what should we do now, boss?"

Before Bardock could answer, though, Shugesh said, having calmed down from his bout of laughter, "Let's get food in our stomachs, or we won't have the energy to do anything."

Bardock nodded, surveying his crew through his scouter. Tora certainly didn't look to be in good enough shape to find a meal, but the others seemed enthusiastic at the prospect. He watched with a hand on his hip, Tora still at his feet, as the remaining three banded together. He sighed a little, giving the body on the ground a prod with his foot, getting a small chuckle out of Tora. Bardock managed to smile as he lifted his head back up towards the others, saying, "Go ahead and get some food. I'm going to go find some shelter with Tora, but be sure to bring a bite back for us."

The others nodded and, without protest, drifted up into the sky. Tora tilted his head back, watching them as they soared towards the horizon. Then he grunted as, without warning, Bardock picked him up in his arms, carelessly throwing his soiled boots on top of his friend's chest, making good use of him. Tora grimaced, having been on the verge of thanking Bardock for taking care of him when he saw that it was his own puke, still moist, on the bottom of those boots. So instead of saying thanks, he only snorted a little, his stomach still weak. If he had a second attack and threw up on Bardock again, he wouldn't feel guilty about it, not at all.

Bardock abandoned the space pods, flying off in the direction opposite from where the others had gone to. He had wanted to go on this first hunt with them, but he knew that Tora was his best friend. He would be able to catch up with Fasha later, hopefully when he could manage to corner her alone. It was rare that he was ever left alone with her, but he hoped that with the fun the other boys would have on this mission, they would forget about their fears of how he would treat her, leaving him to continue with his plan. None of the men were certain of what was wrong with them, with Tora being too hopelessly naive, Shugesh being too self-involved, and Borgos not thinking at all, though it was plain enough to see that something was most certainly wrong. And Tora, at least, knew of Bardock's short fuse, observant enough to pick up that he could easily overpower the female if angered. But Tora had no idea of Bardock's devious plans while on this planet, no idea of his friend's intention to break his promise.

As the two flew aimlessly, looking for a safe place to land, they speculated what the others would bring back to them. Tora had assumed that they would steal something from the vendors at the marketplace until Bardock brought down the crashing realization that they would probably be eating the vendors at the marketplace. The inhabitants of this planet were supposedly very fleshy and rather uncivilized, something that was always a relief to hear for first-time teams. Nobody wanted to have to munch on the crunchy exoskeleton of some oversized bug or be forced to gum their way through wriggling tentacles. No, from what it sounded like, the Darians were very much a fleshy lot, described as having bloated, pink stomachs and rather rotund figures. Almost like a pink Shugesh, Bardock mused with pleasure.

It didn't take terribly long before Bardock managed to find a small cave in the side of a looming mountain, a small pond of water outside. Bardock rested Tora down at the cave's mouth, ignoring him as his friend promptly knocked his dirty boots of of his chest, finding the energy to toss it against the wall. But Bardock gave the sick man no notice, not caring how his property was dealt with. He simply glided down from the edge of the platoon in front of the cave, landing gracefully by the pond's edge. He bent his legs and dared to dip his hand in it, relieved to know it wasn't some caustic substance as he pulled his undamaged hand back out. He placed his hand underneath his tiny nose, scoffing a little and flicking droplets of water from his fingers. The water was stagnant, but with the immune systems Saiyans had built into them, he figured that they would be fine. Or most of them would survive, besides maybe Tora, he noted with a small smirk.

He leapt back up to see that Tora had pulled himself up against the cave wall, his hands still resting over his abdomen. The fallen warrior smiled as he saw Bardock's tall figure approach him, only able to see the Saiyan because of the scouter illuminating his body as a faint shadow against the deep blue of the sky. But before Tora could mumble a word of thanks, even after having had to endure having Bardock's puked-on boots thrown on top of him, Bardock muttered, "Get some sleep, Tora. I'm going easy on you tonight because you have a weak stomach, you weakling, but you'll get a thrashing tomorrow if I see anything on the ground that resembles what you've graced my boots with."

Tora smiled, obeying his commander's order, too tired to wait for the others to arrive and too sick to choke down food, anyways. But as he yawned, seeing Bardock about to abandon him to probably catch up with the others, he said, "Bardock?" The stouter Saiyan turned around, looking at the man sprawled across the floor, seeing his scouter turn off as he chucked it to the side. "You're a good guy, Bardock. There's a reason we made you captain."

And with that, Tora drifted off into sleep, a hand still clenched to his queasy stomach, hoping for a better start the next day. And Bardock only grunted slightly, hoping that Tora would still feel this way about him when he found out about what he was going to do with Fasha. But Bardock scratched that thought, resolving that Tora never find out about his plans. And with that thought, Bardock leapt off of the cliff, not heading off to join the others as his friend had suspected. No, he was going to take a nice, cold bath in that water they would probably use as drinking water later on, deciding that he had had enough of living in his own filth. Maybe the water would have some chemical or other substance that would allow his face to finally grow facial hair. Maybe.

* * *

The timing of their landing had been off, as Bardock found out. Instead of arriving on this planet as the moon was just about to peak, to become a large, round sphere in the sky, they had arrived a few days later than targeted. But this had been of no worry, as Shugesh had assured him that with the size of this whole solar system, it would only take a few more days before the full moon reappeared. And, of course, the fatter, more knowledgeable Saiyan was right, even while munching down on a large, muscular bit of Durian thigh.

All of the Saiyans became unsettled, for the most part just awaiting the moon to reach its apex in the sky except for on their hunts for food. They had experimented with the plants on this planet, though after tricking Tora into trying some and successfully getting him sick once more, they had done away with the idea of eating the poisonous leaves. No, they were stuck with no variety in their diets, which even Shugesh was getting tired of after the fourth night. Tora wasn't eating because of his feeling ill, Fasha didn't eat very much anyways, and Borgos ate most everything. But trying to remain a strong leader, Bardock had plowed through his tenth Darian that week, though his stomach wasn't fit for eating anymore, either. He had to step outside for air every night, unable to stay long in that cave with Fasha, who just sat there quietly and tempted him.

He had been given plenty of opportunities to finally corner the female, but each one was pulled away by another Saiyan, whether it be Shugesh wanting a hunting partner or Tora simply wanting somebody to talk to. The last straw had been pulled when he had been about to run down to the pond where Fasha was bathing, but Tora had told him that he needed somebody to help him up onto his feet and accompany him as he stopped by a nearby rock to release his bladder, still being too weak from the leaves given to him to move around on his own. But Bardock had complied, unable to give a reason to his anger as he kicked down a nearby rock structure. At that moment, Borgos was his favorite Saiyan, having not bothered him in the slightest.

His chance at carrying out this wicked plan, however, was handed to him at the full moon. Tora was usually protective of Fasha, and he knew that the Saiyan wouldn't want to leave the two alone, the clueless man having not the faintest clue of what exactly was wrong. But it was on that night of a full moon that, just as the rest of the group was ready to leave, Bardock called out from the depths of the shadows, "Fasha. Can I have a word with you?"

Normally, Tora would have immediately dropped out of the mission, insisting that he stay to watch the two. However, this would be his first time changing into an Oozaru, and the prospect excited him too much for him to abandon his mission. He as still dutiful enough, though, to exchange a quizzical look with the confused Fasha and ask, "Do you want us to stay here, too?"

"No. The rest of you go on ahead. I just have to talk to Fasha about something for a minute." Bardock's voice came across as calm and collected, and if it had been angry in the slightest, Tora would have insisted he stay behind. But he only shrugged, unable to see how miffed Fasha was in the dark of the cave. Her tail curled in vexation, though she couldn't hide a slight fear, especially as the others jetted from the spot without hesitation. They were eager to get out there so they could unleash the power pent up within them, and Fasha was eager to join the trio. She considered abandoning Bardock, even against order, but there was something odd about this situation. Her heart told her to flee, the warning signals of such suspicious behavior ringing, but she took no notice of them.

With everybody else gone, she cautiously placed her hand up to her scouter and clicked a button. After it had turned on, her face a pale green by its bright light, she looked down the shallow cave, seeing something lurking in its shadows. And every muscle in her body seized up as she stared on, her lips parting in a mixture of horror and fascination.

There was Bardock, the evil Saiyan grin so characteristic of their race on his face. His eyes glinted with malice and lust, a threatening combination coming from this particular man. She backed away unsteadily, her eyes darting from his face to his bare chest, his powerful arms held out as if to calm her, to relax her. But this did nothing of the sort, and she panicked, unable to find her footing. She nearly collapsed, staring at his large, overwhelming figure, able to hear the roars of great apes in the background. But that was nothing, nothing compared to the ape that was with her now, only his spandex pants covering him. She had seen Bardock with close to this little clothing before, when he was training or sleeping, but with the way he hovered over her now, that greedy smile on his face as he looked down at her, she felt threatened. This was all a power struggle for the Saiyan, all about the will of being in charge. And Fasha's breathing ceased as he bent down, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her up to his own height.

She writhed a little, helpless in his grasp but too fatigued to put up a real fight. She watched those dark eyes, scrutinizing her with triumph, and felt her breath shudder as he allowed his tongue to subtly roll over his lips, his trademark sign of victory. She then cringed as he lifted her just off of her toes, pressing her against his chest. And her eyes widened, feeling the warmth of his body against her cheek, her heart rate slowing down to match his. She listened as he asked, "Will you do this for me, as a friend?"

She gulped, suddenly noticing how dry her throat was. She could only choke, "B-Bardock?" Never had she felt so weak, so insecure before, even in his strong arms. And she felt his fingers run over her short hair, a display of how gentle he would be. There was none of the usual anger in his spirit at the moment, having been replaced by something different. It was that insatiable need for power, the irreplaceable feeling of dominating somebody else. The smile on his face slid into something more serious as he felt their hearts align, uncertain of whether his was copying the patterns of her irregular rhythms, or if hers had followed his. But there was no denying the fact that the two were nervous, uncertain of what they were getting into.

And to serve as a reminder of what was going on outside, he allowed his furry tail to twist around his body, locking hers into a tight grip. "Do it as a friend." And he would do this tonight and several more times, not knowing of the consequences that would unfurl in two years. He was only twenty and already breaking the largest promise he had made to his best friend, but he would be certain that Tora would never learn of this night, nor would he learn of the others.


	4. Repentance

**Sorry for taking longer than usual to write this one - I had to rewrite the first half, because though that first draft was probably more exciting, this seemed better to me. Anyways, thanks for the reviews, guys. But before I tell you to enjoy, I must say, I'm beating myself over the head about that whole King Vegeta thing! I always try getting my stories very close to canon, and I'm considering going back and rewriting those chapters. I mean, it's a big enough detail to be a menace to rewrite, but it's also a big enough detail to really annoy me. Anyways, enough with that rambling. =) Thanks, guys, and enjoy!**

Bardock sunk his smooth face into his hands, still free of stubble even after years of trying to grow a beard. But that was of no concern at the moment to him. His one priority was to get himself out of this place, this place with large, grey tiles arranged neatly on the floors, the stark walls too clean for his tastes. He had come here to the infirmary often, but that was always after an exhilarating mission, one that simply required he jump into a rejuvenation chamber. This, however, was different.

He had never sat in this waiting room before, and it was only more unsettling with Tora humming to himself every few minutes, starting up again until Bardock growled for him to shut up. And Tora always complied to his request, giving his friend a little bit of peace before allowing a few bars to escape his throat again, his way of dealing with nerves. But at that moment, the team captain felt like clobbering his friend. Certainly, yes, Tora had reason to be nervous; one of his crew members was giving birth, only just down the hallway. But Bardock felt as though it was justified that he be more nervous, as Fasha was not only a crew member to him. Oh no, he thought as he bit back a bitter laugh. It was his own child that he would soon find in his arms, looking expectantly up at 'daddy' with the wide eyes of Saiyan infants.

And then Bardock would obliterate it.

He released a deep sigh as Tora turned to him, asking, "What's wrong, Bardock?" Then, with a slight chuckle, "You're acting like you're the father or something. What's gotten you so worked up?"

Bardock only glared at him through the cracks of his fingers, as he was still hunched over, his broad shoulders spread out. And then his foul mood was only worsened as Tora teased, "Are you afraid of getting stuck as the babysitter? You know, having to work between shifts just to feed the little kid?" As if a sudden thought occurred to him, the all too happy Tora suggested, "Hey, I bet he'll have a tail! Then he can go off on missions with us, and I can show him how to control his Oozaru fo-"

"Shut up."

Tora immediately clamped up, glancing nervously at his friend. It was rare that he ever saw Bardock this tense, but there he was, rigid with a rising fury. He didn't want to think of bringing the little brat along with him on missions. He didn't want to think of the little brat at all. He simply wanted Fasha back, seeing as she had been incredibly distant with him ever since she had told him the news of her being pregnant. And now, all because of their occasional romping around, he was stuck with a kid. And Fasha wouldn't hardly speak to him, her manner curt and free of emotion whenever the two talked. And, of course, that late-night fun had all stopped with the kid, something that Bardock could only hate him more for. Now there was pent-up energy in Bardock, an unleashed emotion that nobody could help ease but Fasha.

Bardock let out a snort, thinking over how Tora had offered to do anything with him to make him feel better. He didn't think that Tora knew what he was signing himself up for, as there was only one activity that would put Bardock at ease, and it wasn't the typical thing of going to the bar or sparring to release some frustration. No, it most definitely something that only Fasha could help him with, as good a friend as Tora was.

The expecting father only glowered as Tora started with his humming thing again, having taken to it after hearing some of the drunken men at the tavern sing one night. Of course, there was not one Saiyan who could sing on the whole planet of Vegeta, though he supposed that even the pure-hearted Tora had drunken enough that night to believe that they were a chorus of heavenly figures, their beautiful voices filling the whole tavern, when they were truly just a trio in tattered Saiyan armor slurring some notes off-key, trying to harmonize. Bardock was only relieved that his team hadn't been sent on that mission those men had just returned from to have drowned themselves in so much alcohol. Of course, other than Bardock who didn't really drink, nobody complained about the terrible performance.

But even such a memory as that couldn't make him smile. Bardock released a heavy sigh, looking up to see a peculiar, purple alien in a lab coat approach him, one that he had seen on his trips to the rejuvenation chamber. He watched the scientist with a large head and strange, box-like ears, all rather disgusting to the Saiyan. But that didn't matter, as the scientist pulled out a clipboard that had been tucked out from under his arm and asked, "Are one of you... Tora?"

Bardock had been in the midst of standing up, knowing that this had to be it. But he froze, hearing Tora's name called out, not his own. He glared at his friend as he stood up, uncertainly, raising his hand in acknowledgment as he said, "I'm Tora."

The scientist nodded, checking something off on the sheet attached the the clipboard. Then he looked up at the towering Saiyan before commanding, "Come with me, then." And the scientist began in the direction he had just come from, Tora following behind with a last, anxious glance towards Bardock. But Bardock wasn't about to take this, and Tora flinched as he saw Bardock also stand up to full height.

"What about me?" the Saiyan asked, finding it unbelievable that Fasha should ask for Tora before asking for him. He was the father, after all, but he couldn't say that. As far as anybody knew, he was just as close to this child as Tora was, having no real connection to it. But even as much as Bardock hated the little parasite for having taken over his woman, he still wanted to see it. It was his offspring, after all.

But the scientist only shook his head, stopping the procession back to where Fasha was waiting. "Only one patient is allowed in at a time after such a delivery, and she requested a certain Tora first." Then he continued shuffling across the floor, pushing past two swing doors with a sullen Tora behind him, feeling as though he had betrayed his best friend. And Bardock could only watch after them indignantly, lowering himself back down very slowly into the cushioned seat. And with his arms resting on the arm chair, he dropped his head back down once again.

This was embarrassing. The mother of his child, knowing full-well that it was his child, had requested his best friend before him. Bardock clenched his teeth, his upper lip curling with a mixture of disgust and fury. How could she do this to him? He had never hurt her once, and now she thought that she could make a mockery of him, even if nobody else recognized it for what it was. By inviting Tora in to see their child before even he could lay eyes on it, she was establishing her trust in somebody else. Of course, at least it was Tora and not another member of the team, such as Shugesh or Borgos. It would have been pure insulting had she decided to allow one of those grunts to see his child before him, but in some ways, he wondered if this was not worse. The pure-hearted Tora, capable of holding small amounts of alcohol before becoming inebriated and not even able to hold his stomach during landings, was in there, presumably holding his child. And Bardock's eyes glinted with a green malice, actually envying his friend.

During the months that Fasha had been pregnant, he had never imagined himself being jealous of somebody holding his child, being the first one to congratulate his partner on a successful delivery, as he assumed it was. He wasn't even certain of whether it was a boy or girl, bald or furry, strong or weak. Bardock knew nothing of this child, yet he still felt a strange protective feeling in his gut flourish, almost sickening him. No, never in his twenty-two years of life had he imagined such a feeling to be found in his cold heart, stirring the depths of it.

And in that moment, even with the urge to kill the stupid infant, he couldn't help but succumb to a fatherly drive, the will to keep it under his care at all times. Even though it was threatening, competing with his time with Fasha or challenging his authority as a man in later years, he knew that he wanted to be able to hold the tiny thing in his large arms. And he was clearly caught between two antagonistic feelings, one with enough tenderness to love the child, one with enough hatred to kill the child.

He mused a little longer to himself, his broad back still bent over. But his posture straightened considerably as he looked up after a few minutes to see Tora running in his direction, having heard the doors burst open and his friend call, "Bardock! Bardock! You won't believe it!" Tora skidded to a stop in front of Bardock, pulling him out of the chair with surprising strength. "You know what? It's a boy!"

Bardock, a bit disgruntled by the spontaneity of his friends actions, simply pulled himself away from Tora and muttered, "A boy, huh?" He forgot his anger, and it was difficult for him to keep the wonder out of his voice. But he had a son now, something he never would have guessed at having two, four, or even six years before. There was a strange feeling, foreign to the toughened Saiyan, as he asked, "Where's Fasha now? Can I see her?"

Tora nodded, pointing towards the double doors as he clasped his other hand on Bardock's back, saying, "Go through the doors, take a right at the first hallway, take a left at the next, and then go through the first door on the left." He smiled, seeing Bardock already determined to go see Fasha's son, unbeknown to his clueless friend, also his son. But before he could even so much as reach those double doors, Tora warned, "They had to take the little boy away for some tests and other things, y'know. It's just Fasha in there, but she said for you to come in anyway."

And with that, Bardock pushed the double doors open, unprepared for this moment as he ambled down the infirmary's corridors. Most of the doors were closed, but he passed through a few in which he glanced curiously, trying to take his mind off of the matter at hand. He saw a few scientists sitting behind bulky computers, and there was one with an empty rejuvenation tank. But there was nothing to distract him from this idea, this very concrete idea that he was indeed a father. It was incredulous, really. There was no way that he, Bardock, would make a father. He would destroy the gentle thing when trying to coddle it, obliterate it when rocking it to sleep.

But then he stopped in the midst of his procession down the empty corridor, realizing just how crazy he had become. Here he was, Bardock, of all Saiyans, actually caught caring about his son. This thing he had deemed an abomination since he had learned of its conception, this thing that had stirred with his emotions, making him unruly. He had to wonder, though, if it was not so much the lack of love he had been receiving from Fasha as of the late that had been driving him into insanity, but it was more this newfound love for this unknown, a new adventure.

He scowled, pressing on down the hallway, trying to get these formulating thoughts out of his mind. He would kill the thing, and not by accident. He had no room in his young life to tend to a little child, no matter how independent Saiyans were even as infants. He didn't have time to coddle it or rock it to sleep. He was Bardock, captain of a team. There was no child that was his child, not one worth his time, at least.

He exhaled deeply as he found himself in front of the door, able to sense Fasha's weakened energy even without his scouter. A bit nervously, he pushed the red button on the side of the wall, opening the doorway quite suddenly, the metal door sliding into the wall. He tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth before making his entrance, his boots landing on the ground heel-to-toe in the stride of a warrior. But even this warrior couldn't help but have fear pull his heart as he looked up to a mechanical bed and saw a woman laying on it, her short, black hair spread every which way across the pillow underneath her head, her skin a deathly pale.

Fasha managed a sliver of a smile, a ghost of her former mischief behind it, which immediately relieved Bardock. He marched up to her, standing by her bedside with his eyes only on her tiny frame. Then he brought his dark eyes back up to hers, ones that he noticed were lighter than he had ever seen them, especially in this light. But he did not say anything about that, instead asking, "How do you feel?"

His voice was stiff, and he made no gesture to reach out and touch her, seeing as she looked incredibly frail lying in a gown underneath thin sheets. This was the weakest he had ever seen her look, rather disconcerting, and he could hardly listen to her individual words as she replied, "I'm fine. I'm tired, but I'm fine." And she ended quite lamely, uncertain of what to say as a silence followed. He didn't ask to see their child. He didn't ask his name. He simply stared down at her, too astounded by this whole situation to speak another word.

She felt squeamish underneath his stern gaze, far more serious than he had ever seen in his eyes. Yes, he certainly could look serious whenever he talked to her alone, telling her of how he felt. But that was a different kind of seriousness, far more confident. But with the lost look in his eyes, the inability to speak, Fasha realized that this was confusion as much as it was seriousness. In an effort to prompt him into listening to her, to get him to speak and to also ease him as she used to, she said, "I have something to tell you."

And there was a seriousness in her words, her tone. But this wasn't a seriousness of confusion. This was a seriousness of fear, as Bardock set his jaw in place, finally saying, "Tell me."

Fasha had trouble getting these words out of her mouth now, but she had to tell him. She hadn't told Tora, having pretended that her son had simply left the room for a check-up, allowing him to live with the fantasy of having a little boy on their team, a little boy to teach and love. But Bardock wouldn't be so easily fooled. So, locking eye contact with Bardock, hoping that this news would help to take a load off of his mind, she said, "I gave our son away to the government, Bardock. I had a choice of whether to keep him or not because I'm a second-classer, but I decided that he shouldn't be around his parents, not when they don't even love each other." And she watched carefully, surprised as Bardock's chest heaved at these words. Then, so cautiously, she asked, "Bardock?"

She believed that having their son taken away would have relieved him of the stresses of parenthood, and she personally didn't want to deal with a tyke running around, either. She was genuinely shocked as she saw that Bardock obviously didn't think along the same lines, as he brought his hands crashing down on the bed's high frame, as if in disbelief. She watched curiously as he croaked, "You... you gave him away? Like that?"

"Yes, but Bardock, you-"

"And you don't love me?"

Fasha flushed, her thin lips parting as she heard these last words, dragged out in betrayal. "Bardock..." she murmured, reaching out to touch him. But he flinched, pulling his hands away and pacing across the room, unwilling to listen to her. "I thought you didn't love me. I-I'm sorry, Bardock, but you never... told me." She stared up at him, wriggling on her bed a little so that she was in a better position to talk to him. "I always thought that those things we did were for fun..." Silence, and she quietly said to his back, "As friends. Remember?"

But that was enough to get Bardock's anger ablaze once more, and he spun around, startling her into a small yelp. Prowling across the room towards her, a hurt expression on his face, he yelled, "As friends? As friends? Are you saying that you snuck around with... with Tora, doing those things?" This last part was almost choked out, the idea hurting him so badly. But before she could defend herself, he continued, "And how could you give our son away as a slave? I was a slave!"

It was rare to see so much passion come from Bardock, as he usually either didn't take things seriously, or when he did, he treated it was a low rage. She hadn't seen anything like this as he advanced upon her, now clinging on to the foot of the bed and nearly shaking the whole thing apart. "I will not have my son be a slave! I will not!"

And, fuming, he left. She blinked, her heart dropping as she watched him depart. This wasn't supposed to end like this. She had never known him to really love her, but even knowing that now couldn't change the way she felt about him. He was a friend, nothing more, though he was different from her other friends. He wasn't like Tora, not at all. She closed her eyes, unable to believe that he had taken the news so badly, the reason why she had refrained from telling Tora the truth. And then she wondered if, perhaps, the two weren't so different. Both were oversized children, uncertain of what they wanted and unable to appreciate what was best for them. She shook her head, hoping that Bardock would forgive her so that she may forgive him.

* * *

Bardock brushed past a scientist passing his way, pushed the double doors aside, and nearly ran through the waiting room. Tora stared after him as he left through the front entrance, and the tan Saiyan could only yell a fruitless, "Wait!" But it was to no avail, Bardock being gone.

Tora quickly clicked his scouter back on, considering checking on Fasha first. But her power level seemed stable enough, in the low hundreds at the moment, acceptable with the condition she was in. So he focused in on Bardock's power level instead, seeing it sore higher than he had ever seen it. As he leapt up, his jaw dropping, he watched the numbers soar above five thousand. Incredible - absolute amazing.

He stood there, waiting for the numbers to level off. Then he remembered that he needed to get to Bardock, to calm him down before he did something rash. So he ran outside of the building, offering a few apologies as he pushed people out of the way. Then he jetted from the spot, looking out for his friend to show up on his scouter, imagining all the while of how easy it would be to conquer a planet with a power level of fifty thousand, what his power level would have been had he been an Oozaru. But at this moment, Tora couldn't help but think of how lucky this planet was to not have a full moon, as it would have been torn into bits by the time this day was through.

Finally, after hovering above the laboratory for a while, he managed to hone in on Bardock's power level. It was mingled with those of other Saiyans, and Tora shook his head, knowing just where he had headed off to. It was the tavern in town, the one that Saiyans enjoyed going to whenever they were off missions. And though it had often been Tora to drag Bardock there, he had always assumed that he enjoyed it, or he wouldn't have gone. It was one of his favorite places to be when not conquering a planet, and the two had been going there more frequently with these past few months taken off of Saiyan duties, Shugesh following on occasion. Tora didn't understand why they hadn't been unable to go on missions without Fasha, seeing as she was unable due to being pregnant. But Bardock had insisted they stay as a team lest they grow apart, and Tora agreed with that to an extent. There was, however, a quick temper that he had seen in Bardock more frequently as of the late, something that he attributed to simply needing to release his energy on missions. He was eager now to be able to go back on missions, now with Fasha having had her little boy.

He wondered what had angered Bardock enough to have him storm out of the infirmary like that. Maybe he had asked who the father was, and she would tell him. Tora had been curious to know, and he had thought that he might finally get a chance to meet the man that actually did... it, he thought with a childish smirk. If he hadn't seen Fasha's belly with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed her to have actually gotten pregnant. But she was, and Tora was so happy, especially now that she had had the baby. Even he couldn't get be consumed by such thoughts as who the baby's father was, and he had always been more interested by this topic than Bardock was. He wondered if it was a serious case of doubt that had kept him from wondering just who the baby's father was, and now that he saw that little boy, his curiosity had been piqued.

But that was only Tora's guess.

As he found, his scouter never lied. There was Bardock, he saw after touching down and opening the door to the futuristic bar, sitting down at a table, only watching the other people. He didn't even have any alcohol on him, something that Tora would never understand about his friend. But that didn't matter at the moment - what mattered was that Bardock had calmed down some, simply enjoying being in the company of others.

Bardock didn't even notice his taller, thinner friend until he pulled up a chair at the same table. Then Bardock leered at him defensively and growled, "Leave me alone, Tora." It was amazing how quickly he expression had switched from on of awe as he mulled over his thoughts to one of fury, so protective of his own mind. But Tora wouldn't leave him alone - he had to find out what had upset him so badly at the infirmary for him to stomp out like that.

"What happened back there?" Tora demanded, his voice as harsh enough to be heard over the din of the tavern, but soft enough to be considered caring and patient. And though the taller man was just brimming with this patience, Bardock simply gritted his teeth, wanting to be alone. He simply turned away and remained silent, hoping that Tora would go away if ignored. But Tora wouldn't accept this as an answer, pushing him, "What's bothering you? Did Fasha tell you who the father is? Did you find out?"

His suspicions seemed to be confirmed as he saw Bardock scrunch up his nose strangely as he turned to face the tan man, waiting there for his reply. And Bardock started off slowly, muttering, "Tora..." He wasn't sure if this was the ideal time to tell Tora the truth, as he had never intended to do so. But without Fasha to fall back on anymore, having learned that they were simply friends and nothing more, he needed somebody else to talk to. Of course, he couldn't tell Tora. This man couldn't handle anything that was tainted, his purity in matters being too much for the foul Bardock to handle at times. But for the sake of his own reputation, Bardock decided against telling Tora that he was indeed the child's father. So with a low grumble, he said, "Leave me alone, Tora."

Tora wouldn't give in, his persistence finally shining through. "Tell me what's bothering you." He placed a hand on Bardock's shoulder, his cold hand stinging against the man's warm back. But Bardock made no efforts to shrug it off or anything of that sort. He simply released a sigh, wondering just what he could tell Tora without tarnishing his own image. He liked that Tora thought him to be such a good guy a lot more than he ever let on, and he didn't want to lose his only friend, the only one that he knew wouldn't betray him.

"Tora, there's something I have to tell you," Bardock began again, catching eye contact with him as he slowly moved back around to face him. Tora looked at him with interest, waiting as he said, chagrined by just how unable he was to keep the sorrow out of his voice, "I never got to see the baby. Fasha deported it, sending it off to serve under the government, so now the child's a slave." Tora's heart lurched at this, wondering why Fasha hadn't told him this herself. "She said she didn't have the time to mess with a child, and she couldn't send it off to its father.

"She doesn't understand what it's like," Bardock continued, knowing that Tora felt the same way as he did on this matter. He felt guilty as he saw Tora's face turn ashen, his jaw set in place as he listened. "She doesn't understand what it's like to not know who your mother is, who your father is. She had a choice, but she turned it down, all because of her own selfishness." His anger was rekindled as he thought over this, his twist on the story making Fasha seem so much more the villain. "She had a choice, she had a choice! She's a second-classer, and she still sent the little thing away, the helpless thing. She doesn't know a thing about love, not even when it's staring her in the face."

And he felt Tora's hand slide off of his shoulders at such remarks, as the younger Saiyan wasn't certain of what to say. He finally regained his voice, noting the hitch in Bardock's furious breathing, as he said, "Bardock, there's... there's a reason that she made that decision, I'm sure." He could hardly believe that Fasha would abandon her child just after birth, but he knew that Bardock wouldn't lie about something this important. He had enough faith in the woman to say, "Even if it wasn't the right thing, I'm sure that she felt it was. Plus, the child will know who his parents were - I saw her filling out the form for his identification card, one that she demanded as her right, being a second-classer. I saw her fill in her name under 'Mother', and she was covering 'Father' up with her hand when I tried looking. Remember how she used to carry one around, all of those years ago? Well, all of the data will go into the large computer somewhere on this piece of rock, and if little Raditz ever decides that he wants to find out who his parents are, he can."

Bardock's breathing had stopped completely as he registered everything Tora had just said. Assuming that Fasha had indeed filled out the line with 'Father', his son would know who he was, he would know exactly who his parents were. And this name Tora had used, this curious name... "Did you call it Raditz?" Bardock assured, finding the idea that she had gone so far as to name their son comforting, not leaving that duty to the government.

Tora nodded, and the team captain immediately sighed with relief, that rising anger having been nipped before it could bloom. His swelling heart died down, and he felt his breath shudder, listening as Tora continued on first with how hairy the little baby had been, and then with the plans he had for their team now that they wouldn't have to bother with a little Saiyan running at their heels, wreaking havoc. But deep inside, Bardock knew that he hadn't come over his feelings for Fasha. It wouldn't be until two years and one mistake later that he finally would bring himself to forgive that loveless woman.


	5. Retribution

**This is an epic of a chapter, and I apologize for getting it out so late - I had to write the first 3,000 words of it three times before getting it right. I want to thank all of you readers and reviewers for your support of this story, and I'm sorry to see it finish. I would have broken this chapter up in half, but I promised _five _chapters, not six. =) Thank you so much, everybody. You all are amazing, and I hope that the action in this chapter makes up for the lack thereof in previous ones.**

There was a playful smile on the twenty-four-year-old Bardock's lips as he laid against the stone ground of the cavern his team had set camp up in. They had become quite nimble with how they set up their temporary housing over the years; they knew to stay on high grounds to prevent flooding, to stay away from civilizations lest they find their hiding spot before the appropriate time, and to stay off of vegetation on these planets, unless they see something remotely human eat it first without dying. They had learned that a number of times, mostly at Tora's expense, but it had been more than once that Bardock had gone through an unfortunate bout of stomach pain. No, even their tough digestive system couldn't handle the lethal plants of these strange areas.

This planet they were on, one that went by the name of Umelo, was an odd one. It was particularly deadly in that it was very green, full of flora and unfortunately lacking in fauna. It wasn't a Saiyan-friendly habitat, leaving his crew a very hungry bunch, too afraid to try any of the foreign, red berries that covered this planet. They had had a hard enough time just finding the people, the elusive, cold-blooded, little, brown peoples with heads too large for their bodies called the Cuma. Shugesh, after first seeing one, had wondered just how they could balance being as disproportional as they were, but Bardock didn't think that he had a place to comment. It wasn't as though Shugesh's head fit his body's size, either, though he faced the opposite problem.

Even with these setbacks during the mission, though, Bardock couldn't help but suppress laughter. His stomach was growling fiercely, as were the rest of his team's, but nightfall was coming soon. It wouldn't be long before they managed to assume their Oozaru forms, but until then, they were all amusing themselves with gory tales of their pasts. Bardock had been surprised to find that Shugesh was an incredibly storyteller, able to weave the most miraculous accounts involving him and stealing food when he was a child. Tora was particularly intrigued by this conversation, always having possessed that Saiyan affinity for blood. And even Borgos was listening as he sat in the corner of the cave, nodding his heavy, grey head in appreciation at Shugesh's words.

"-and then I tossed the kid aside, only after he had thrown up all over my armor. I almost finished him, but there were too many witnesses. So the next stop? Kitchen duty." Bardock groaned slightly with sympathy, remembering the countless times he had been given such punishment. Tora managed a small snicker, remembering the fun that he and Bardock had had while on such a duty, as Shugesh continued, "Anyways, it wasn't that bad. There was lots of food, but there was one guy that I remember. His name was Turpin, if I remember correctly. Fat fellow." Shugesh belched here, his empty stomach having filled with warm air, releasing a toxic stench into the area.

"Disgusting," Bardock muttered as he sat up, pinching his sensitive nose and waving his hand through the air as if to disperse the fumes. Tora only shook his head, standing above the others with his lean back pressed against the wall of the cave, and Borgos acted as if he couldn't smell it. "Didn't they teach you manners while on kitchen duty?" But Shugesh bellowed heartily, patting his jiggling stomach at such a reaction.

"Do you want me to get on with the story?" There was no response from the group except for the continual nodding of the head on Borgos' part. "Well, anyways, the Turpin fellow - second-classer, if I remember correctly - tried getting me to wash all of his dishes. He was a few years older and so a few years larger, and I wasn't even sure if I'd been able to beat him up. But after I refused to wash his dishes, which would have been an additional two hundred to what I had to do each day, I didn't have any choice. He threw the first punch, but not until after I jumped out of the way, the skinny, little fellow I was." There was a snort of disbelief from Bardock, seeing as he doubted that Shugesh had ever been anything less than the rotund mess he was now. But Shugesh plowed right over Bardock, "And even at fourteen, I was still pretty strong. It was a good fight."

He paused briefly, taking a swig of some substance that he called tonic from a metal canister he always carried around, though Bardock had always suspected it was something else, considering the strong smell of alcohol it emitted. It was probably the only thing that could keep the guy sane when there was such a lacking supply of edible food, Bardock noted as Shugesh picked up again, "I whipped around him after dodging that first punch, and I managed to knock him down, lunging at him with my elbow and pinning him to the ground by his stomach. But he kicked me off of him, and I fell back into a rack of pots and pans, bringing the whole thing down." He took another drink before screwing the cap back on the metal canister and putting it back on the ground. "Turpin thought he had me confused, but when he jumped at me, I rolled out of the way and he crashed into the pots, landing his head against a particularly large one. And I jumped at him, with him trying to claw my face out all the while, his tail trying to grab me around my neck. And you know what I did? I beat him to a bloody pulp, I did!"

There were a few rounds of laughter through the cave as Tora asked enthusiastically, "What happened?" There was a large grin of excitement on the tan man's face, something that was only there whenever Saiyans shared fighting stories. This gore was the only thing that Bardock didn't censor for his friend, seeing as it seemed to be the only thing he had the stomach to handle.

"I'm getting there!" Shugesh growled as if irritated by his impatience, but he truthfully loved the attention. "Anyways, I ended up winning by a landslide. I beat at his head enough to give him a concussion, tons of blood oozing out of his nostrils and onto the floor, his lips swollen and his jaw all bruised. But as my final act of revenge, I decided to reach down and tear off his sixth limb."

"His tail?" Tora asked naively, gaining a real round of laughter at his expense as he stood there, wondering what was so funny.

"No, that's the fifth limb, Tora," Shugesh chortled, his hand resting on his jiggling belly again. "Though I suppose it would have been just as embarrassing, but I didn't think of that at a time. No, I reached down and pulled of his sixth one, and let's just say that he won't be able to have kids anymore."

Bardock shook his head, his own belly aching as he tried suppressing the laughter. "That's just... disgusting," Bardock repeated, unable to believe that Shugesh would really do that. He had torn of Pota's thumb, yes, but at least Pota was still a man after being dealt with. This Turpin was now just a castrated oaf on kitchen duty, and Bardock received the nasty mental image of Shugesh proudly swinging that prized, sixth limb through the air.

Repulsive, really.

But before Tora, who had just recovered from being mocked for having not know what he had meant by this sixth limb, could ask exactly what Shugesh had done with his new trophy, a harsh, feminine voice called from just outside of the cavern, "It looks like ten minutes, boys! Then we can actually eat." And in came Fasha, strolling in breezily with a hand on her stomach to show her hunger.

Bardock smirked as he looked her over, his dark eyes brimming with the same lust from years before. But there was a difference now as he averted those wanting eyes from her long legs back up to her face, only to see an indignant pout on her face. Now he thought he had come to terms with the fact that she didn't love him, though that was easier said than done. With that sardonic grin in place, leaning back a little on one arm as he looked up at her, he said, "Well, look at who's decided to drag herself back in for the night." Fasha leered at him and stood against the wall, crossing her arms and leaning up against the rocky surface near Tora. She had noticed him scrutinizing her figure, but she didn't give a second thought to it anymore. She only harrumphed slightly and watched him warily. "Couldn't find anything interesting to eat?"

She had taken to leaving their temporary shelters under the guise of searching for food lately for two reasons. Firstly, she didn't particularly like Shugesh. He was loud and obnoxious with no manners and an unfortunate knack for telling gruesome stories, some of which even managed to churn her stomach a little. Whenever all of the men were gathered around in the caves they took as housing, she knew that story time was coming. And the second reason she went exploring by herself was to simply have some time for herself, to clear her head when things were getting heated. She sometimes wanted company on these excursions, but Tora refused almost every time she invited him, something that Fasha had always found strange. As delicate as he was in both mind and body on Saiyan standards, he certainly did like gore. It had to have been a male thing, she decided.

Fasha released a small sigh and replied with her eyes narrowed, "No, there wasn't anything. This planet is awful. Nothing's edible here that won't kill you, and it's been hard finding any of the indigenous peoples since we scared them off." She scowled at her misfortune, unable to overcome her own hunger. It would only be about ten minutes, though, before the full moon rose high enough in the sky. Then they would be able to feast after a day of fasting.

"Those little runts don't look like they have much meat on them anyways," Shugesh spat, upset as his stomach grumbled. It had been Fasha that had reminded his stomach of its hunger, and at that moment, he wondered just how good Saiyans tasted.

But before he could delve much further into those thoughts, Bardock exhaled deeply and tapped at the green scouter on his head, a few clicking sounds appearing. "They're just east of here," he sighed, looking up at Fasha to see the suspicion dancing in her own violet eyes. He had never understood it, but after giving birth to Raditz, her eyes had lightened incredibly. They always captivated him, having never met a Saiyan whose eyes were quite like that. He wondered if that happened to all Saiyan women after giving birth, as he had never run into one knowingly before. But he wasn't even given this privilege of looking into her eyes, as she quickly averted them and stared down at her white boots instead.

"Well, it doesn't look as if they can be too much trouble," Tora said, scratching at his cropped, black hair. "I mean, they are tiny."

"That's just what I was wondering," Bardock said with a grimace. "This mission seems odd to me. First of all, those things are really tiny, but they're listed as highly dangerous. Secondly, I can't believe they sent a few low-class Saiyans on such a 'dangerous' mission. Seemed odd to any of you all?"

Shugesh simply shrugged and replied, "Probably just a typo in the database. There's no way that little guys like them could be considered dangerous, not when I could squish them with a foot without transforming." And he scowled slightly, his stomach aching just thinking of the things. He decided that he didn't care how scrawny they were, as long as there were enough to satiate his appetite.

Fasha, however, was warier than the fatter Saiyan. "It doesn't surprise me that they would send us on a dangerous mission," she started, gaining everybody's attention as she leaned coolly against the cave wall. Everybody turned their eyes on her, waiting, before she explained, "Well, just think about it. Have any of you noticed that there have been fewer and fewer Saiyans returning alive on missions?" Tora furrowed his forehead as he pondered over this, and Bardock raised an eyebrow, wondering where she was going with this. Shugesh, however, wasn't as interested.

"You think the government's planning something?" Shugesh bellowed, projecting an incredulous laughter from the depths of his thick, flabby throat. "The government doesn't care enough about us to want to get rid of us. No, if anything, we're just toys to them. Nothing more than things to send off on missions to amuse themselves with." And when nobody uttered a word of agreement, he pushed himself off of the ground with a grunt, groaning slightly as he did so. Then he turned to them all, stretching his back out to allow a small pop to escape, and said, "Well, I'm going to go outside to wait for the moon. You wanna came, Borgos?"

The quiet Saiyan nodded his large, grey head, also pushing himself off of the dirt floor and following him to the entrance. Then, once they both had disappeared, Fasha asked, "You two don't think I'm crazy, do you?"

Tora didn't say a word, but Bardock admitted, "I think you're right." She cocked a thin, dark eyebrow at him, this having been the first time he had sided with her in a long time. For the past few years, he had been making her life miserable, always taking jabs to humiliate her in an immature manner. But here he was, looking up at her with a serious expression, almost finally looking like a man. "I've never trusted the government. It's corrupt."

"I'm glad I'm not alone on that," she murmured, allowing her tail to wrap around her hand. It had been a long time since she had had a civilized conversation with any of the men, seeing as Shugesh had a habit of bringing out the most beastly aspects of them. Even Tora turned bloodthirsty with the tales he told, and Fasha knew that this senseless destruction would do nothing to help their situation. She turned towards the tan Saiyan and asked, "What do you think, Tora?"

He only let a small breath out, his eyes shut in thought. Then, with his arms crossed against his chest, he confessed, "I think you're right, Fasha." Then, to the surprise of the older Saiyans, he said, "We were wrong, Bardock. We were confused."

Bardock squinted his eyes as he looked up at his best friend and asked, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about when we were kids," he said, finally opening his eyes to look down at his friend, who was still laying on the floor. He saw Bardock straighten up a little, now in a sitting position with his legs extended, giving him that curious look. "When we were kids, we said that we would tear apart the social hierarchy of Planet Vegeta, remember?"

"Right," Bardock confirmed gruffly, having forgotten about that plan in the midst of all of this business with Fasha. She glanced between the pair of them suspiciously as Bardock said, "And we still are, right? Bottom on top, top on bottom?"

"Well, it isn't about that anymore," Tora said as he allowed his arms to fall to his sides, walking a little ways towards the cave entrance with his back on the other two. "It's about keeping Planet Vegeta together. We can't split ourselves apart. It's not bottom on top, top on bottom anymore. Now it's nothing, nowhere."

"Tora?" Fasha asked curiously, but he said nothing. So she turned to Bardock expectantly, who only shook his head, getting on his feet once more.

Bardock stood up to his full height, his shoulders held back a little. "You don't know what you're talking about, Tora. We decided on this eight years ago. There won't be classes anymore." He wondered just what had gotten into his friend to get him to talk like this. Tora didn't really voice opinions, but here he was, telling the captain of the team that he had been wrong all along. This wasn't the same man he had met eight years ago, most definitely.

"Listen, Bardock," Tora said, whipping around to meet his friend, face-to-face. "This isn't about the social hierarchy. Ever since Lord Frieza announced himself leader of the World Trade Organization a few years ago, have you noticed anything different?" Bardock only shook his head, having been too consumed by his own matters lately. "There's been a lot of strange things happening. Saiyans haven't been coming back on missions. Other elite forces have been getting special treatment above us on our own planet. King Vegeta hasn't made a public appearance in months, and as for Prince Vegeta... when's the last time you've heard about him?"

"That little runt doesn't deserve to be recognized!" Bardock growled, thinking over that selfish, little five-year-old, thinking over just how many royal appearances the brat had made. Even when only three, his manners had been so atrocious that all of Vegeta couldn't help but hate him, hate how confident and ignorant he was, making fools of third-classers by sending weak energy blasts at them, knowing they were unable to fight back. "He's a no- good, and if Lord Frieza does anything to him, I'll shake his slimy hand myself."

"Bardock." This time it was Fasha, freeing herself from the cave wall and placing a reassuring hand on his broad shoulder. "I never told you this, but... Raditz was sent to be raised with Prince Vegeta, to be a companion around his age, which was a privilege. If something happens to Vegeta, Raditz will likely be taken down, too." She stared up at him comfortingly, hoping that he would take it the right way, to realize the importance in keeping tabs on the young prince to assure that their son was fine. But to her misfortune, Bardock rarely took things the right way.

With his teeth gritted furiously, he pulled himself out of the woman's loose grip and snarled, "You gave m-" but he caught himself in the midst of saying 'my son', changing it appropriately, "You gave Raditz away as a slave to the most spoiled tyrant in the universe?" Before she could react, she found herself with Bardock's large, overpowering hands wrapped around her neck, dangling her a foot off the ground. He gave her a fierce shake, Tora watching in horror, as he held her face up to his own and spit, "You gave him away as a slave, and you have him away to a Saiyan elite? I hate first-classers enough, so how do you think I like the elite?" Another violent shake, her hands desperately scratching at his tougher, larger hands, as he yelled, "I hate the elite!"

He watched, blinded with anger, as Fasha's face change to a color reminiscent of Pars' so long ago when he was also in death's grip. But he managed to catch himself this time, and instead of knocking her out cold and proceeding to kill her, a foot stepping through that frail chest of her's, he dropped her. And he huffed ruggedly, his chest expanding as air filled his lungs and deflated with shuddering breaths. Then, without so much as a glance at Tora, he stomped out of the cave and took to the skies to the east, ignoring an astounded Shugesh and Borgos.

Tora flung himself down to the ground, lifting the barely conscious Fasha in his arms. "Fasha!" he cried a little pitifully, watching her half- closed eyes, the violet color of them lilting downwards a little. And he could only sigh with a relief as she pried those weary eyes open, asking, "Are you okay?"

She only looked up at him, dazed after such a violent attack from Bardock. But before her body went limp in his grasp, she said, "Make sure Bardock doesn't get himself killed." She seized a little, her eyes shut as she moved a weak hand to her bruised throat, muttering, "And Tora?" He stared tenderly down at the woman, looking so small now, so weak and helpless. "Good job standing up to him. It's a hard to do, and you did it..." And her voice trailed off as she tilted her head back, her shaggy, black hair hanging down slightly. He bit his lip as he set her down carefully on the cave floor, uncertain of what to do with her fainted body.

Tora fled from the spot, shoving past an astonished Shugesh and Borgos, who promptly ran into the cavern to see if Fasha could tell them anything as they thought her to still be awake. But he lunged off of the cliff, gliding in the dark of night, the moon just rising over the canopy of trees extending to the horizon of the planet. He closed his eyes and gulped, hoping that Bardock was still okay, wherever he was. Something seemed off about this mission, most definitely, and though he didn't think that this was necessarily a trick of Lord Frieza's, he couldn't help but sense some trickery involved. He, the innocent Tora who believed the best in everybody, was beginning to realize that the world wasn't perfect. And this realization perturbed him.

His eyes widened as he pushed a few buttons on his scouter, incredible numbers that he had only seen two years previously popping up on the green screen. They were large numbers, ranging from five thousand to six thousand, ones that he knew were coming from Bardock. He bit at his bottom lip and continued soaring forth, the cool, fast winds of this planet biting at his face and beating his hair around, helping it to escape the restraints of his ponytail.

It was then that Tora sensed Bardock's energy as coming from the forest of trees beneath him, and he dove quickly, fighting through branches and allowing cuts and scrapes to cover his body. He gnashed his teeth together, knowing that he had to reach Bardock before he did something careless, hoping that Shugesh and Borgos would be able to care for the fallen warrior back at their camp. He landed with a thud on the jungle floor, his foot getting stuck in the twisted vines of the planet's deadly vegetation. He growled, something so characteristic of Bardock, as he shook his foot loose of the growth's grip. Then he combated his way through a series of shrubs and plants, stumbling upon a small clearing, a leafy ceiling still hovering with the large, mossy trees twisting into each other, and creating an area of darkness, save for a few, tiny patches of moonlight that managed to shine down upon the grassy floor.

And all Tora could see of his friend was a green scouter and a tiny sliver of his large arm that was revealed by the moon's peaking rays. He watched as Bardock stepped forth, the light of the moon now reflecting off of his shoe, and then laying across the bridge of his nose. And so anxiously, Tora called out, "Bardock!"

He ran up to his friend, looking at him now through his own scouter. But he saw Bardock hold up a hand, his eyebrows still contorted angrily, that nasty grimace on his face. "Leave me alone, Tora," he demanded, turning his head away so as not not have to look Tora in the eyes, even in the darkness of the jungle floor. "Leave."

His voice, so aggressive, would normally have persuaded Tora into following his commands. But not anymore, not as Tora stepped forth, insisting, "I'm not leaving without you, Bardock. We have to go back, to wait for the others. This mission's too dangerous, not for the two of us to handle together."

"We won't be handling it together," Bardock said, his voice raspy from anger. "I'm going solo on this one, seeing as you decided you're not on my side anymore. No, you're on that Vegeta-worshiping side that Fasha's put herself on. I know where you stand now, Tora, and I can't let you help me."

Tora's heart stopped as he regarded his friend carefully, unable to comprehend exactly what he had just said. He was already tearing them apart, tearing them apart from within the team. This wasn't what the Bardock he knew would have wanted, but he could only watch in awe as a glow of light appeared from the palm of Bardock's long, brown glove. He and Bardock locked eye contact for a half second before Tora knew exactly what Bardock was going to do with that sphere of energy, the one that he was creating in his hand. And it was just as Tora yelled in protest, charging forth and shoving Bardock down to the ground, that Bardock released the energy blast, allowing it to ascend through the clearing. And Tora only looked up with a pounding heart, seeing the gaping hole the energy blast had created in the forest ceiling. He squinted his eyes, averting his eyes from the source of moonlight pouring down on them. But he felt Bardock's chest convulse underneath his hands, and he looked down only to leap back in terror.

There was a red spark in Bardock's eyes as he stared up at the moon, now shining down upon him. He locked visual contact with it, his heart beat of his chest slowing down, becoming louder and more of a thud. Then he felt his muscles bulge, swelling in size as his face mutilated, his jaws growing and his teeth sharpening. Bardock's tiny nose flattened and left a large snout in place, those black eyes overcome by the intensity of the red. And Tora saw as fur sprouted from all over his friend's body, he saw as his friend grew, the ligaments tearing just beneath the skin to be replaced by larger, healthier ones. And Tora continually backed away, forgetting that he could turn into this mighty creature, too, in the fright of the moment. He couldn't help but fall back on his arms and legs, crawling back into hiding, watching his friend's new body with astounded eyes.

He had seen this Oozaru form countless times, but never had he realized just how massive it was, as he had always been that same height, too. But tonight, something told him that his Oozaru form would be of no help, that he couldn't allow himself to be lost to that hidden beast within. Even if he was the only one who could fight Bardock at that size, there was a gut feeling within that told him not to change, not to make that transformation. Somebody had to stay sane, and he believed it to be himself.

He rolled out of the way as Bardock brought a massive foot down on the ground, the whole ground shaking. He gulped as he hid in the shade of the low-lying bushes, waiting with his chest pressed against the ground, his head lifted slightly. He clenched his eyes shut as Bardock's deepened, scratchy voice rang, "Come out, you pathetic pesks! I'm going to eat you!" And Tora's stomach couldn't help but growl at that moment at the mention of food, but he ignored it. His scouter told him that these stranger creatures, these Cuma, were very close by, but he couldn't spot one. They were a distinctive brown that should have stood out in the green of the foliage, but as Tora glanced around, he didn't see a single one. He thought he saw things shift in the shadows, the corners that weren't touched by the moon's light, but he couldn't tell if it was simply a trick of the eye.

Tora glanced up warily at Bardock's towering figure, able to finally appreciate the Saiyan's size. But as he looked down once more, from such a low height, he a large head peeked out from the ground, springing up all at once to Tora's great disbelief. Tora gasped in shock as the thing came into full- view, what with Bardock being too consumed by his own transformation to actually make an effort to look around for the tiny peoples. And they were indeed tiny, what with short, stubby legs and arms, a long body covered by a simply loincloth made of some bark foreign to the uneducated Saiyan. But what frightened Tora as he looked at the things was not these weakly aspects - it was the face of the thing. Its head was oblong and bald, white spots adorning the top of its dark head. And it had a malicious smile, its white eyes devoid of pupils seeming to stare at him as it bared its teeth, continuing to make its way along the bottom of the forest floor. But before he could track its movements, it had disappeared into the darkness.

Now Tora was trembling, frightened by these strange things. They had seemed so much less harmless before, when they had caught only glimpses of them in the daylight. But now, with those white eyes seeming to glow eerily in the night, Tora couldn't suppress a shudder. His breathing stopped as he felt the tremor of the ground, Bardock taking another ungraceful step, a few trees tumbling down with his weight.

And then the Saiyan watched as his best friend moaned with pain, a shiver coursing through his body. He immediately lifted his head, staring in amazement at the crying Oozaru, its ape-like mouth opened as he screamed unintelligibly, curling his fingers into balls of pain. Tora glanced around for the source of such pain, and his breathing hastened as he noticed just what was causing his friend, Bardock the seemingly invincible, this incredible pain: clinging on to Bardock's thick, hair ankles were a few of these Cuma, these creepy peoples, sinking their mouths into his tough skin, managing to penetrate it with their sharp fangs. And there were dozens of them swarming around the ape, he noticed now, looking on in utter awe at the spectacle. Yes, he had often seen an army of peoples band together in a fruitless attempt to bring down the great Oozaru, but never had he seen any succeed as these were succeeding.

He leapt up from his hiding spot, deciding that he had no choice but to try to defend his friend. He would look at the moon and assume his Oozaru form, and he would help to fend off these Cuma, these dangerous little things. But as he approached them, even stepping into the moonlight, the creatures didn't react. No, they paid no attention to him whatsoever, arrousing some curiosity within him. He decided to daringly push through the crowd, brushing against their cold, leathery bodies, cringing with the contact. He considered flying, but he didn't want to get within Bardock's swinging range, not when he was so out-of-control and blinded by pain.

And then an idea struck him. He boldly waved a hand in front of one of the creatures, quickly bringing it back to his side in fear that it might lunge out at his arm. But it did not such thing, not even taking note of him. And Tora discovered something that might just serve as an advantage, something that all of the databases had failed to mention. These Cuma were blind.

He stared down at the mob surround him, all of these peoples about half of his height. He flinched as they pushed against his legs with their cold, dry hands, feeling the tips of claws touch his legs. He closed his eyes, wondering just why they were all shoving past him and towards the larger Saiyan, the one whose shrieks filled the night. But then, all at once, the pieces to this puzzle seemed to fit. They were blind. They were cold-blooded. The sought after heat. Oozarus were incredibly warm.

And this series of theories did so much to help explain many questions about these peoples, starting with why they weren't going after him. His body was too small to present a large amount of heat, so they had more difficulty tracking him, especially when there was such a large source right by him. And it would also explain that Tora hadn't been imagining anything at all when he saw one of these things spring up from the ground - they lived under the ground the escape the harsh, cold winds of the planet, seeking heat where it was warm. Tora couldn't help but let a small breath of relief escape as he realized that he wasn't crazy, that he had indeed seen the Cuma spring up from the ground. It would also explain their elusiveness, as they had never been forced to search under the ground before for victims. This was an odd race of peoples if they could be considered peoples at all.

Now the only question was of how to pull these things away from Bardock, seeing as they were inflicting so much damage upon him. He automatically created an energy blast in his hand with hopes that it would release enough heat to draw those things away from his friend. But compared to an Oozaru, his sphere of energy was nothing. He grimaced and considered just shooting the ball of energy out into the crowd of creatures, though he knew that it would only draw attention to himself. And as of now, he thought that his position not being known was probably the only thing keeping him alive, because even these things seemed to have an effect of the stolid barriers of a transformed Saiyan. He just shuddered to think of what would happen if Bardock turned back into his human form with all of those things on him...

But an idea struck Tora. If Bardock did turn human again, he would be able to generate an energy ball and draw the creatures away from his friend, seeing as they would no longer be as interested in him with the sudden lack of heat. He gritted his teeth and spun around in a frantic search for some way to get Bardock out of his ape form, having learned of only two solutions to such a dilemma in the case that a comrade's Oozaru form was getting out of control. There was the option of cutting off his tail, though Tora didn't think he would ever be forgiven for committing such a feat as that, and there was also the option of destroying the planet's moon. He chose the latter.

He wasn't certain of whether or not he would be able to gather the energy to destroy such the satellite, though he knew he had no choice but to try. It was with a grimace that he plowed over these peoples, them not recognizing him as an outsider, quickly making his way into the clearing Bardock had just created, allowing the moon's beams to shine on his tan skin. And he stood by the monstrous foot of Bardock's with these leech-like creatures attached, many of them trying to push past him to get to the heat source. He dug a boot back in the hard ground, holding his hands out before him together in the manner he had been taught to conjure his most powerful blast. And with his heart racing, he felt a soft, blue glow form in the combined palms of his hands, clenching his eyes to prevent himself from staring up at the moon's mightiness, to prevent himself from transforming. He released this wave with shut eyes and a pounding heart in hopes that it would hit his target.

It did.

Tora's eyes flew open, an arm above his head as a might branch fell down from the tops of the forest, crashing down upon him and several of the tiny creatures. But like the Saiyan, they were hardly damaged, so determined to eat food. And Tora scowled as one jumped on him from behind after having generated such a heated attack, digging its teeth into his shoulder blade and allowing his own blood to mix with a viscous, purple liquid, slowly trailing down his back. Tora reached his hand around and grabbed the thing by its neck, clearly snapping it in two, and tossing the thing's pitiful body on the ground.

But his back seared with pain, a raw aching coursing through his body, and he touched it tenderly as he knelt down in defeat. He smeared some of the purple goo on his hand, holding it up to his sensitive nose and realizing just what it was. These things, these Cuma were venomous, secreting a powerful poison that managed to knock him down, his brain becoming fuzzy with details. He was on his hands and knees now, lunging out at every creature he could get a hold of, breaking them physically in a violent manner that he had never untapped before.

And right before passing out, he saw Bardock's body lying dormant on the jungle floor before him. He gasped, his lungs shuddering as he quickly fumbled forward, making his way to Bardock's human body, only a few of these gross peoples on him now, one holding on particularly viciously to the Saiyan's head, holding him by his jaw bone. And in a last aggressive act, Tora dove towards Bardock's unconscious body, knocking all of those Cuma off of him and landing on top of his friend before everything went black.

* * *

When Bardock finally opened his eyes, he saw only the bleariness of being underwater. He blinked several times, realizing there was a mask over his face to allow him breath. His body was lighter than usual and his hair spread apart, dancing about underneath the water. He saw a few bubbles come up from his mask, leading his attention to the two suction cups placed on either side of his forehead, noticing wires leading from them and to some piece of hulking machinery above. Then he looked down at his chest, surprised to see it bare with him only in the typical Saiyan undergarment of spandex pants. Whoever had put him in this rejuvenation chamber had been in a rush, he noted wearily.

He wasn't ready to come out, not after recognizing this place. It was always a comfort to be able to float around in a pleasant stupor, unable to focus on anything bad that had happened on a previous mission with the drugs being channeled to him through the mask. But his eyes were alert enough to pick up a distorted figure moving around on the other side of the glass keeping the water inside, able to realize just who it was even with his face comically disproportionate through the rounded glass. It was Tora, he recognized, an elated expression on his face as he jabbed at the glass eagerly, creating large thuds to reverberate from his underwater cage. He could hear very muffled yelling, darting his eyes curiously as more faces pressed themselves up to the glass, such as Shugesh's and Fasha's. He thought that he might have been able to see Borgos, too, lurking in the background, though that might just have been hopes that his whole team was there.

Before Bardock could say another word, he heard a suction noise, darting his eyes warily to a series of floors that had opened up along the bottom of the rejuvenation chamber. His lips were parted as the water level lowered, his hair being the first to lose its weightlessness and falling back, plastered to the top of his head. And then it was his face to be free of the medicinal waters, then his chest, and finally, his drifting legs, which brought him back down to sitting quite awkwardly at the bottom of the chamber. And he could only watch with bated breath as the glass slid open from before him, revealing four very welcoming figures at that moment. But he could only shudder a breath, the cold air of the room chilling him instantly.

Bardock stepped out of the machine, very wet and very cold. He shivered slightly as Tora threw a blanket towards him, saying, "It's good to see you alive, Bardock!" And he could only blink uncertainly, staring at each face. First there was Tora's very relieved face, obviously strained with the good amount of worry he had put up with for the past couple of days, Bardock not knowing that he had been out quite that long. And then there was Shugesh, a hand clamped happily to his belly as he bellowed with laughter, allowing his stomach to jiggle familiarly. And standing a little ways behind Shugesh was the infamously quiet Borgos, who even had a tiny hint of a smile on his face. And finally, Bardock found himself staring at Fasha, who had turned her eyes away indignantly, seeing as Bardock was almost completely unclothed, able to make her uncomfortable even after all of those years, after that first night.

He unfolded the tangled mess of a towel Tora had tossed him, quickly bending down and shaking his wet hair out with it. Then, after his characteristic spikes arose from being slicked back with water, he draped the towel around his shoulders, almost an attempt to be more modest. Because now, for the first time since he had met her, he didn't receive this strange jerk in his heart when she looked tentatively back at him. No, even as his eyes rested on her, rested on those long legs he had always prized, there was nothing. Now he simply felt strange and introverted, as though this were a new person he was just meeting, having been forced to meet them almost naked save for an unmodest pair of tights.

He tore his eyes away from Fasha as Shugesh exclaimed, "You gave us quite a fright, there! Haven't been awake in four days now, I think, since we touched down."

"Five," Tora immediately corrected him, tugging at his bottom lip nervously. The healing chamber hadn't done all of its work, he noticed. The doctor had told him that Bardock could be removed as soon as he woke up, but there were two fine slits intersecting each other on his left cheek, something that he suspected Bardock wouldn't be particularly happy to find out about. This moment, however, wasn't time to break the news of his scar to him. No, they would celebrate, celebrate the revival of their team captain.

Bardock stood there, only able to stare at all of them dumbly once again, unable to utter a word. And when he finally could get something out of his throat, all he asked was, "What happened?" His voice was raspy as he turned to Tora, having not used it in apparently several days. He couldn't remember anything after turning into an Oozaru, allowing rage to pass over him and control him. But the memory after that was blotted out, nothing more than darkness. And after a mission, his team had never held a reception for his revival, their faces telling him that they hadn't expect him to survive.

Tora released a heavy sigh as he realized that none of the others wouldn't take on the task of telling him this story. So he approached Bardock tentatively after having just seen him strangle Fasha and basically give up his life for one final mission. Bardock scared him a little, but he knew that he needed to find his ground, to finally be able to face the intimidating Saiyan. So he placed a comforting hand on his arm, ushering him into one of the sitting chairs he had basically been living in for the past few days. But he realized Bardock was too stubborn to budge, he gave up with trying to get him to sit down. If Bardock wanted to take this story standing, he could, though Tora was pretty certain that he would sit down some time during it.

"What do you remember?" he asked.

He was uncertain of where to start. He would rather not repeat the incident of him with Fasha, knowing that narrating such a thing would make it sound far worse to his own ears. So he was relieved as Bardock replied, "I remember being in that forest and looking into the moon. Then I transformed into an Oozaru, and I can't remember anything after that."

Tora nodded, glancing towards the door warily to make sure that nobody was listening. He tapped at his scouter and confirmed that nobody was waiting behind the door, immediately making Bardock long for his. But before Bardock could express this desire to have his clothes and scouter returned to him, still feeling exposed with a woman in the room, Tora had already begun.

"It started right after you turned into an Oozaru that the Cuma came out of hiding. They're cold-blooded and blind because of how dark that forest is, and they apparently sense their prey through heat. Well, after you transformed, you were putting out enough heat to draw them out of their hiding places. They didn't even notice me, and they started latching on to your legs, making you roar like you were insane. It turns out that they're venemous, too, something else that the database didn't cover about them. And their venom is especially toxic - it was enough to make you cry out in pain, even while transformed.

"I decided to do some quick thinking, something that I thought was brilliant at the time. I thought that if I got rid of the moon and you transformed back, they would leave you alone and I could be a decoy." He noticed the look of disgust that Bardock was sending him, obviously telling him that his failed plan was the most ludicrous thing he had ever heard. So he stuttered in his own defense, "I know, I know, it was a dumb idea. But it sounded okay at the time, and so I... blew up the moon." He chuckled a little nervously, trying to ignore the stare of disgust at his obvious failure as a tactician. "Anyways, you turned back into your normal form, and I found myself with one of those suckers on my back after having sent out so much heat with that one attack. I managed to get him off and get to you, but that's when I noticed that my plan hadn't exactly worked. Instead of leaving you alone as I thought they would, they were attacking you pretty badly by biting at your, their little hands on your body."

Quite wisely, he decided not to inform Bardock of the scars on his face after these scuffles, knowing that with the look he was being given, Bardock would likely try to kill him. "I knocked them off of you, but by then, the poison had gotten to me, too. I fainted - you had already fainted - and the Shugesh and Borgos came, leaving Fasha back at the base because..." And he trailed off here, seeing Fasha flinch slightly at this mission, though Bardock still look at him with that serious disbelief in his face, as if too busy questioning his friend's sanity to remember exactly what had happened in the cave to even cause him to run off like this. "The guys were pretty miffed at me afterward for destroying the moon, but they managed to get us and go. Those buggers, the Cuma, were pretty easily blasted away. It looks as if it would have been decimate the planet in our regular forms, but there was no way for us to know that." An angry snort came from Shugesh at this lack of information given to them, costing them the whole mission.

"They strapped us into our pods and we all returned here, ready for healing after that horrific mission. I healed pretty quickly, seeing as I only had a few wounds to my back. We're lucky that Umela isn't very far away from Vegeta - probably only a few weeks away, at the most. You managed to hold on just long enough to allow some scientists to shove you into the healing chamber. It's a good thing that you weren't bleeding too badly, just at your legs and ankles, a few bigger gashes towards your face, but nothing too serious." And that was a lie if Tora had ever told one, knowing that if Bardock ever did manage to grow facial hair, he would complain forever about the bald patches over those two permanent slashes cutting deep into his cheek. "And now here you are, all perfect and good as ever!"

Tora's tone was too enthusiastic, even for him. Bardock leered defensively at him, thinking that this story had seemed too quick and painless. By the way that Tora had been trying to prepare him for it, what with attempting to get him to sit down and talking to him in such a kind manner. He crossed his large arms across his chest and asked, "And?" He had been expecting something more, something even worse than having failed a mission. Because even though just the thought of abandoning the planet was gnawing at him, something in the insincerity of Tora's words, the silence of the rest, couldn't help but arouse suspicion.

Tora attempted a faltering smile, though he finally gave up and licked his lips anxiously. He glanced towards the rest of the team, all bearing stony expressions, as he turned his eyes back upon Bardock, realizing just at that moment how massive he was. It was then with a weak chuckle and a quickening of his heart in hopes that the team captain, his best friend, wouldn't pulverize him that he explained, "Well, there's more. You see, to put it bluntly, we came back and were told that you're a father."

To Tora's great fortune, such news didn't receive the welcoming he had believed it would. No, instead of deciding to take out some pent-up anger on one of them, Bardock's shoulders dropped, the towel sliding down a little. But he paid no mind as he darted his eyes towards Fasha, who was fervently shaking her head behind the others, her eyes alarmingly wide. Before he could even speak, Shugesh stepped up now that he realized Bardock wasn't about to explode and said, "You see, Tora explained that you'd lately been taking to hanging around the taverns, getting to know women and such things." He chuckled arrogantly, daring to send Bardock a wink of understanding. "We came back, and the first thing we had was one of these scientists coming to tell us that a particular woman had been coming by to check if you were around. Well, he said that she meant to leave a message with you, to tell you the big news, and he decided that he'd just tell us seeing as we're your team mates. So congrats to being a new father, Bardock. Didn't think you had it in you."

Bardock release a slight huff of disbelief, staring back in Fasha's direction. He didn't even care about the failure of a mission anymore. His feelings were extremely mixed as he noticed the hurt expression on Fasha's face, unable to understand how he had moved on so quickly from her, not knowing that it had been done in his misery. On one hand, he was relieved that they hadn't found out about him being Fasha's son's father, seeing as that could churn out some rather nasty impacts upon the crew and its ability to handle itself. But on the other hand, he had just heard that he was going to become a father once again, his child's mother being a woman he hardly knew, a desperate third-classer like himself. He gulped, knowing that this baby's fate would be just the same as Raditz's had, being sent off as a slave and never able to see him again.

But this, this was different. Nothing could be done to help this, not unless this stupid class system was overruled. And there was that feeling of guilt, that feeling that he had let this unborn son down already. His mother was a broad, so like that nightmare he had had of his mother being. No, his mother was a broad, and if anybody told him that, this unborn son would have no right to pound his face into the dirt, to kill him as Bardock had done to Pars so long ago. And now, Bardock could only wonder if Pars' taunting had been true. Perhaps he had killed Pars for not reason, his claims of his mother being true. The thought shamed him, it scared him. He had done something to his son that he had been so afraid of. He just hoped that this son never found out, preferring that he live in ignorance for the rest of his pathetic, third-class life, unless he could finally get this system overruled. Then those upper-classers would have no right to make fun of him, despite his birthright. But Bardock still couldn't get over the fact that he was a father. Again. And this son would only be taken away, just as his other had been.

His expression of astonishment expertly slipped back into its usual contortion of anger as he faced Shugesh and Borgos, barking, "You two, go find out the soonest time we can get off of this hunk of rock. I'm itching to kill, and I want to make sure that it's on a planet suitable for Saiyans this time." He snarled as he saw a sneer appear under Shugesh's mouth, knowing that farewell was a way to vent his anger after the slight teasing the fat Saiyan had given to him. But Shugesh obliged, knowing that he would allow Bardock some time to recover from this news. He and Borgos made their way out of the room, the door sliding in place behind them. And with only Tora and Fasha in the room with him, he readjusted the towel around his shoulders, turning once more to the offended Fasha.

His sharp face softened slightly as he demanded, "Come here, Fasha." He signaled for the woman to approach him, rather nervous to be near him after the throttling he had given her just on their last mission. She stopped before him, a good two heads shorter than the towering man. And his heart slowed down as he stared down at her meek figure, wondering just what he had seen in it just weeks before. After having strangled her, he felt different towards her. It wasn't those long legs or her silky, black hair that caught his attention anymore. No, it was as he reached down and cupped her chin in his oversized hand, forcing her head to tilt upwards to look straight at him, Tora watching in the background with awe, that he realized it was her violet eyes that captivated him at the moment, glimmering with tears forming at being so close to him, being so close to this man who had almost killed her. Then, as he looked into those eyes, the dark pupils darting away nervously, her fragile figure trembling in trepidation, he muttered, "I'm sorry."

Her breathing hitched slightly at these words, having never expected them from the proud Saiyan's mouth. She automatically pulled away from him, backing towards the door with fear. But as he made no move towards her, as Tora looked between the two curiously, she finally choked, "I forgive you." And with that, she made her exit, her thoughts flying from just how much Bardock had changed from that first fight to that last struggle. And finally, matters could be amended between the two, and they could start anew.

Tora gulped a little nervously, wondering just why they had been acting they way they had, even becoming curious as to whether this apology was deeper than just from him choking her. But before he could ask, Bardock removed the towel from his heavy shoulders, tossing it on to one of the sitting chairs. He watched as Bardock strode across the room, picking the Saiyan armor sitting in the corner of the room and fitting it over his bare chest, giving his wet head one last shake. But then Bardock turned to him, and he knew that there was unfinished business between the two, unfinished business about his outburst on Umela. And he was correct, as he saw Bardock place his hands on his hips, shaking his head in disbelief.

"No internal revolt, Tora?" he asked, still surprising Tora even though the younger Saiyan had been expecting this. "You don't want to be the kings of this place, to have the power and to see the upper classes suffer the same way we did?"

Tora shook his head, shocked that he had the audacity to even do that much after all he had witnessed. Then, a little shakily, he said, "This isn't about the classes anymore, Bardock. This is about keeping Planet Vegeta together, doing whatever we have to, even if that means keeping up with the hierarchy. It's not fair, but it can't all be fair, Bardock."

Bardock sighed, turning his head away from Tora for a brief second before catching eye contact with him again, full force. "If you want to think that, I can respect your opinion. But for me, this is about the classes. It's always been about the classes, and it always will be. I'll do whatever I can to bring this system down, whether it takes two or twenty years."

With another shake of his head, Tora approached the stockier Saiyan, placing a comforting hand gingerly on his shoulder. "Don't do this," he insisted, imploring that his friend rethink this. "Vegeta can't be torn apart - did you see what almost happened to our team, with you and Fasha? We can't be broken apart from the inside-out. If there's anybody we need to be up against, it's Lord Frieza. All as one, I'm sure we can do it. I'm certain." Then, with a slight pause, he continued with growing confidence, "Our mission was rigged. It should have been for the smaller warriors, not Saiyans. I think we were sent there because we're growing more powerful, Bardock. I think we were sent there in hopes that they would kill us. We have to be careful on this next mission we go on. We can't trust Lord Frieza, not without risking our lives."

"I know," Bardock replied, deeply impressed by his friend's maturity. He seemed to be handling things better than he had years ago, though he had always had a stomach for adventure, for the gruesome untold stories yet to be spun. He shrugged Tora's hand off of his shoulder in disgust with himself, knowing that Tora was selfless. He was good. But Bardock wanted this rebellion for his own gain, for the pleasure in seeing those upper-classers die under their own labor system. He bit his lower lip with the knowledge that Tora was right that tearing apart the classes would only mean the destruction of Vegeta itself. But Bardock couldn't bring himself down to this humbling level, to be prepared to give up anything for the worthless, upper class scum of the planet. So he only turned away in shame, turning his scarred face away from Tora, and said, "I can't agree to help you, though, Tora. I've already decided. There's nothing else that I can do besides get my revenge."

Tora clenched his teeth at his friend's persistence, darting his eyes around the room. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a small, white handkerchief sitting on the table near the sitting chairs, lunging forth and desperately grabbing it. He looked at it, still clean and obviously belonging to a scientist, faintly remembering that one of them had laid it there so that he could use it to staunche his own blood after coming in to check on Bardock, still not having completed his time in the rejuvenation chamber. And it had been left there, unused, its pure whiteness catching Tora's eye.

Tora ran up to Bardock, eagerly displaying the white cloth in his hands. "Look, Bardock, look at this." He unfurled it, holding it up for Bardock to see. But his older friend only stared at it warily, again worrying about his friend's sanity. But he watched silently as Tora gave it a slight wave, saying, "This, this represents what we'll be. We'll get rid of these foreigners, become a planet of Saiyans again. We won't be slaves, not to Lord Frieza, anyways. We'll be untainted by their influence, able to rule ourselves again."

Bardock looked at the hysterical Tora, flaunting a white handkerchief quite proudly, trying to push it into his hands. But Bardock turned away, leaving Tora dejected by saying, "You keep that to yourself, Tora, and if I ever decide to join your side, I swear I'll take it from you. But for now, it looks as if I'm conquering this planet by myself." His voice wasn't bitter, but it still had some remourse to it. He had always imagined Tora and him ruling Vegeta together, being the ones to prevail over those weak upper-classers. But as of now, it didn't seem as though this wish would come true.

Before Tora could protest, though, forcing Bardock to take the white cloth, the one that would symbolize their future as free of tyranical rule, the door slid open, showing Borgos looking rather out-of-place, all alone. And the silent brute finally spoke up, grunting, "We're going to a planet called Kanassa in two days." He stood in the doorway, Bardock ignoring him with one last look of dismay towards Tora.

If he only could have had the ability to see what was coming, he might have been able to see the dire events that were to come. But, unfortunately, seeing the future was not an ability he had acquired yet, lest he be able to see his whole crew die, his planet fall, his planet explode, and all of memories of himself and his plans of taking over Vegeta, creating a better place to live, all vanish. He would only have two sons to follow him on their own separate paths of rebellion, being two of the few Saiyan survivors. If only Bardock could have seen the future, he would have known that in two years, there would be nothing left.

Unfortunately, he could not.


End file.
